Connected
by AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: Past and present aren't as separate as Nellie Lovett and Sweeney Todd think. After all those years, they share more than seems likely.
1. Introduction 1

_I really liked the semi-relatedness of the chapters in my previous story One and I wanted to write another multi chapter fic like that, because it's easier for me to update that way and because I had some more ideas for One which I couldn't use in that story. _

_This story consists of two parts: the first one is based around the Ben/Nellie pairing and the second one will be Sweeney/Nellie. The chapters within a part can mostly be read both as one shots or as an actual multi chapter story; the "connection" between the chapters will only become clear once I begin posting the second part._

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**Connected**

_**Part 1: Nellie Lovett & Benjamin Barker**_

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Introduction

"How often do I have to say it for you to understand?" Nellie yelled at her husband, who remained unsatisfactorily calm in spite of her outburst. "I don't want to do this!"

"I don't see why you shouldn't prepare this lunch and join us to eat it," Albert Lovett said, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"You _don't see_?" she echoed, anger rising within her. She and her husband of half a year didn't quarrel often, probably because he didn't listen to her once he had made up his mind about something or because he didn't react to her when she was in such a mood anyway. But young Nellie Lovett was a woman with a hot temper and if there were things that she didn't like, she'd made sure that everyone involved knew of it. "What is there to see, except for your _dramatic _decisions when it comes to tenants?"

"These people are different, Nellie. I have to admit that my previous choices weren't very fortunate ones, but I can assure you that this couple is very kind and..."

"_Not very fortunate_?" the baker screamed, too upset to do more than repeating him. He had chosen all the previous tenants of the room above their home and shop without even asking her opinion about them. All of them, without exception, had been horrible people, varying from a thief to a man who she hadn't seen sober once.

She had warned Albert every time, sensing the true nature of those persons long before her own husband had, but he had never listened to her before the situation had escalated already. That was the reason that the baker couldn't believe that he had found new tenants again without even asking her what she thought of them, and she was going to make that very clear to him.

"Are we... interrupting something?"

The heads of the fighting couple turned abruptly towards the person who had spoken. In the hallway to their parlor stood a young, yellow haired woman, but Nellie didn't give her a second glance. For behind her was another person, someone who did capture her full attention.

It was too easy to say that he was the most beautiful man that she had ever seen - it was more than that. There was something about him that made her feel at ease immediately, something that told her that she could trust him with her secrets – with her _life _- even though he was a stranger. Never before she had met someone who evoked this unexplainable feeling.

And as if that wasn't enough yet, the man _was_ incredibly handsome. The gentle curve of his mouth, the soft looking lips, his warm, brown eyes and the equally dark hair that reached to his shoulders...

She stared at him, flabbergasted, and when the man's eyes met her own, she stood rooted to the ground because this wonderful man was looking at her, smiling gently and somewhat shyly, clearly having no idea what he was doing to her.

He looked away quickly however, as if overwhelmed by her interest. Neither his wife nor her own husband were aware of it, for which the baker was grateful.

"These are Mr. and Mrs. Barker," Albert said, gesturing to the young couple. "They are the new tenants. Mr. and Mrs. Barker, this is my wife, Nellie."

Even when her husband introduced her to the woman who was married to the beautiful man, Nellie remained looking at him, his last name echoing in her head. The Barkers nodded to her, clearly feeling rather awkward because of the moment that they had entered the parlor; the fact that there was quite some distance between them and the other couple while they were being introduced to each other only made this worse.

The baker nodded back to them without thinking, remembering at least some of the manners that her mother had attempted to teach her and trying not to make a complete fool of herself in front of the beautiful stranger.

Albert gestured the Barkers to sit down on a couch and raised his eyebrow slightly when he looked at her. Knowing exactly what he wanted her to do, Nellie began preparing the lunch she had refused to make only minutes ago. She would gladly make a meal for the man that began talking to her husband at that very moment, reluctantly at first but soon with enthusiasm, even if it would take her an entire day.

When she prepared the food, she wasn't really focused on the task. Her mind simply couldn't care about the bread and the soup that her hands were touching; all she could think of was the man who had just entered her life and had captured her attention in a way no man had ever done without even trying.

Later that afternoon, when the meal was eaten and Mr. Barker's compliment about the soup had made her blush, the men talked about nothing in particular. Lucy opened her mouth to answer only when she was asked a direct question and Nellie found that she for once had nothing to say herself. She didn't trust herself to speak anyway, not now that she couldn't even take her eyes off the dark haired man or think of anything beside the skin and hair that her eyes were consuming.

After they had been visiting for about two hours, the Barkers promised to move into their new house soon and returned to their current home. Albert said something about his high expectations of the new tenants, but Nellie didn't hear him. She could only think of Mr. Barker, and the thought that he was her new neighbor and that she was going to see him much, _much _more often, never left her mind.


	2. Gift 1

Gift

It had been a difficult decision, but Nellie liked to think that she had made a good choice. She had accidentally heard that morning that it was the birthday of the new tenant, the beautiful and mesmerizing Mr. Barker, and she hadn't been able to resist the temptation to buy a present for him.

She hardly knew the man; so far, she had only found out that he was a recently married barber. She could barely afford buying something for him, but she had wanted to, if only to have an excuse to meet him for a second time and have a chance of impressing him. Mrs. Lovett usually never felt the urge to make a good impression on anyone, which made her only more eager to do so now.

Her husband wouldn't miss her now that the daily lunch rush had just come to an end and it was quiet in their pie shop once more. And, because of some discreet observations that she had made the past few days, she knew that Mr. Barker's wife wouldn't return from her work until the end of the afternoon. The barber himself was having a break now, so there were no customers that could interrupt them.

Standing before the front door of his home, she could see him through the little window that was next to it. For a moment, she just watched him, appreciating the fact that she could take a proper look at him without anyone, let alone Mr. Barker himself, being aware of this.

There was something about the way he was sitting there all by himself, eating a slice of bread, that elicited unfamiliar feelings within her.

Not wanting to think of this at that very moment, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He gave her permission to come in almost immediately and when she entered his home and shop, her knees buckled slightly as his dark eyes focused on her.

The barber stood up and, suddenly feeling not quite as certain of her decision as she had been before, she walked to him and extended her hand.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Barker," she said, shivering involuntarily when they shook hands. It was the first time that she touched him and she hoped that it wouldn't be the last, for his hand felt perfect as it was holding hers.

"Thank you," he said, his genuine voice erasing the doubts she felt.

They looked at each other and for a moment, she was lost in his gaze, forgetting that she was still holding his hand. Only when he gently withdrew it, she managed to look away from his intriguing eyes. It wasn't so easy however to free herself from the thought that it would be wonderful to step closer to him and kiss both his cheeks like a relative or a good friend would do.

Not wanting him to be aware of the fact that he was making her feel rather nervous, she handed him his present.

"You shouldn't have," he said, clearly surprised and shocked that she had bothered to get him something.

"Nonsense," she said quickly, having expected no other reaction from the man who had seemed so modest and humble during the one time she had met him before.

"My husband and I want to show you this way how happy we are that you and your wife live here. You have been exemplary tenants thus far and we hope that you'll continue living her for many months to come."

He smiled, a little shyly and uncertainly, and Nellie couldn't help but think that she had never seen a more becoming expression on a man's face. She felt somewhat guilty for being not completely honest with him – her husband and Mr. Barker's behavior as a tenant had nothing to do with this after all – but telling him the true reason for her generosity would be much worse.

He began to unpack the present slowly and carefully, as if he was savoring the anticipation.

"It's... it's beautiful," he whispered when he had removed the paper and had opened the box that the sheet had been wrapped around. Her gift to him was revealed now; it was a small and delicate candle-holder made out of glass. "I won't forget this, Mrs. Lovett. And I will thank your husband too, the first time I see him."

"Oh no," the baker said quickly, having feared this already. "It's only normal. If we would have to keep thanking each other for such little things, where would we be?"

Mr. Barker didn't seem to agree with that, but he didn't try to change her mind.

"If you insist," he said, "but I do want both of you to know that I'm very grateful – not only for the gift, but also for having such a pleasant landlord and landlady."

"I'll tell my husband that you like the present."

The barber nodded, the smile back on his lips.

"I think I know the perfect place for it," he said, moving to windowsill and taking a small candle from a box already standing there. He placed the new candle-holder on the wooden surface and put the new candle in it, lighting it with a match from his pocket.

Only then the best quality of the gift was revealed and Mr. Barker's eyes widened when he beheld the candlelight, that was diffused in an almost magical way because of the skilfully crafted glass that the holder was made of, even though it had to compete with the broad daylight.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said, taking his eyes off her gift only after a long moment, "this is truly wonderful."

The young baker blushed, Mr. Barker's words affecting her like no others ever had.

She would've loved to stay there, to watch his face as it was illuminated by the flickering light. But she felt that she had to leave now, before she could make a fool of herself or do something stupid.

Wishing him a very pleasant day once more and bidding him goodbye, she went back to her own home.

When she was in front of the pie ship, she stood still for a moment, seeing the burning candle from outside now. The financial sacrifice was nothing compared to Mr. Barker's delight and her feeling that both of them would be reminded of this day whenever a candle was burning in the beautiful holder that she had bought just for him.


	3. Reassurance 1

Reassurance

"Mr. Lovett?"

Nellie turned around quickly, almost slipping on the wet floor of the pie shop as she did so. She didn't expect anyone now that the shop had closed for the evening; Albert wouldn't be back for quite some time.

She wasn't the one who was spoken to, but she recognized the voice immediately. It was _him_ after all, Mr. Barker. _Benjamin_. She had only found out his name by listening to a few conversations between him and his wife. It wasn't eavesdropping, really - how else was she supposed to find out such things about him?

"Albert isn't here," she said, wiping her hands on her dress, making sure that they were dry and that there were no remains of soap on them. Realizing that she was sweating because of the work, she quickly wiped her face with the sleeves of her dress. Usually, she never bothered to tidy herself. But now she wanted to look good - for him. "He's out, drinking with his friends. Can I help you?"

She forced herself to remain calm. The influence that this man had on her was ridiculous. It wasn't that her knees went weak or something silly like that – not _yet_, anyway - but she always felt strangely vulnerable when he was around. It was the oddest thing, especially because she had never had an actual conversation with him. She couldn't even take a proper look at him without hiding behind walls or other obstacles as she did so, to prevent anyone from finding her staring at him.

"I've got the rent money," he said, handing Nellie an envelope. She took it, not knowing if she should be relieved or disappointed when their fingers didn't brush.

"Thank you," she said, mustering her courage to look up and meet his gaze, only then realizing that he looked different than usual, as if he was very tired or felt sick.

"Mr. Barker!" she cried, worry for him welling inside of her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," he said, but his smile didn't reach his eyes like it usually did.

"Is there something I can..."

She hardly knew him, but she did want to help this man – if only she could just ask him what was wrong without raising suspicion.

As if sensing this, he sat down on one of the chairs in the shop without invitation, but she didn't care at all and just settled next to him, not knowing what to say. Luckily, he began speaking on his own accord, avoiding to look her in the eyes as he did so.

"It's my wife," he said, staring at the surface of the table. "She went to see a doctor today, and..."

"And what?" she asked carefully, her mind telling her that she should be worried for Mr. Barker's wife but her heart saying something very different.

"I haven't told anyone yet, but she... she's pregnant."

"Mr. Barker," Nellie managed to say, "that's wonderful!"

It was a lie, but she did her very best not to let him be aware of this. She didn't even know herself why she suddenly felt disappointed – as if _she_ wanted to be the woman who was pregnant with Benjamin Barker's child, even though she hardly knew the man.

"Yes," he said weakly, "but the thing is... it means that Lucy and I are going to be parents... that I'm going to be a _father_."

Nellie was shocked for a moment, but as she he met his gaze and saw the obvious uncertainty in it, she understood that he _did_ want to have a child, but that he was afraid of not being able to raise it properly.

"Mr. Barker," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I've met you only a few times and I won't pretend to know you well, but during the time that we spend together, it became clear that you are a very kind and responsible man."

She felt the urge to take his hand in her own, squeezing it gently to empathize her words, but she resisted the urge. No matter how tempting it suddenly seemed, it would be a very foolish thing to do.

"You are loyal and patient... you're a good man and I don't think that any child could wish to have a better father than you."

The baker was afraid that she had said too much, that she had made too clear how highly she thought of him, or that she had offended him by saying those things.

"You... you really think that?"

She smiled to him, not trusting her voice anymore as he looked at her with relief and gratitude. Her smile wavered somewhat however when she saw that he was blushing lightly.

He remained sitting there for a long moment, not breaking the growing silence as he scrutinized her. The intensity of his gaze made her want to look away, but she found that she couldn't, the gentleness in his eyes too rare to ignore.

Even though he was having once again his strange influence on her, Mr. Barker himself looked calmer, as if her words had actually made him feel better. This possibility made her even more nervous than she already was.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lovett," he said, standing up rather abruptly, as if he suddenly couldn't wait to get back to his wife and their child, or perhaps he felt uncomfortable hearing her say those rather personal things after all.

He nodded to her and bid her goodbye, his gaze lingering on her a few seconds before he walked out of the shop. A second later he was gone and only then the baker noticed that her heart was beating wildly and that her hands were trembling.

She wondered once again what Mr. Barker was doing to her, but she didn't know the answer. The only thing that she was intuitively certain of was that this, whatever it was, was only the beginning.


	4. Books 1

Books

Humming quietly to herself, Nellie made her way through the bookshop. It was a small one, not far away from her home, and she didn't know a place that she loved more. Even though she couldn't afford much, she bought herself one book every few months. Albert wasn't happy with it, but allowing her to keep a few pennies after another long week of work was the least he could do – and she had made that very clear to him. It wasn't that _he_ was careful with money when it came to drinking with his friends in the pub.

Choosing a new book was something she thoroughly enjoyed and she liked making lists of possible choices, taking every snippet of information she had about it into consideration, almost just as much as reading the actual book.

She wasn't sure what kind of book she wanted to get this time and she knew that she wouldn't buy a new book for at least a few days, but there weren't many more pleasant ways to spend her time than wandering around in the shop whenever she could.

Greeting the owner of the shop cheerfully and laughing as he playfully rolled his eyes when he saw her _again_, she moved to the section with romance novels. She felt the urge to surrender herself to a written world of love and passion.

Running her fingers lovingly over the spines of the books, her thoughts wandered back to the man who she had so recently; the mysterious and beautiful Mr. Barker. For some reason, the mere memory of him made her want to read one of those romance books that could let her believe for a few hours that true love actually existed and that there really were people who lived happily ever after.

Mentally adding a book about a kind and handsome man to her little list, she randomly took a few new books from the shelf, beginning to read the summaries on their backs. She was too engrossed in the promising sentences to notice the man who entered the aisle that she was in already.

Only when the man, who was just as lost in the worlds of words as she was, bumped into her, she became aware of his presence.

"Mr. Barker!" she cried when she recognized him, her cheeks flushing as she remembered too well that she had been thinking of him instead of the actual handsome and gentle main character just before she had seen him.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said, greeting her with enthusiasm. "Such a coincidence! I had no idea that you like to read."

"I do," she said, wanting to say that she thought the same of him, but having not enough confidence to actually do so. "It's my favorite way to pass the time when there's no work that needs to be done."

"For me too," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to the book she was holding, "at least, when Lucy isn't home."

The baker sighed inwardly when she heard the other woman's name, not wanting to think of what the Barkers were doing exactly that made it unnecessary for Mr. Barker to want to read a book.

"Have you read that one already?"

Nellie was still wondering about the barber's private life and it took her a moment to realize that he referred to the book on a shelf on the other side of the aisle. It was an adventure story that she had intended to take a look at before the thought of the man she was currently talking to had changed her plans.

"No, I haven't," she said, wishing once more that she had. But the book was the latest part of the series, and it was too expensive for her until it would be discounted once the newest part would be published.

"I have it at home," the barber said, looking lovingly at the book. "The trouble is that I can't find the first part anywhere."

"The first part?" she echoed, for a moment thinking that she was actually lost in a scene from a romance book, because this simply seemed too good to be real. "I... I have it. I bought it years ago."

"You have?" he asked, a look of disbelief on his face that was quickly replaced by one of excitement. "I finished reading the copy of the new part a few days ago; you can read it if you want to. And perhaps, I could..."

"Of course you can borrow it for a while!" she said eagerly, sensing both what he wanted to ask and that he didn't really dare doing so, "and I'd be delighted if I could have yours for a few days."

"As long as you want," he said, the smile that she had grown to cherish appearing on his face. "I can get it for you right now, if you want to?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," she said, unable to believe her luck. "And I will get the one for you immediately."

Beginning an enthusiastic conversation about the books, the barber and the baker left the shop.

It didn't seem strange to her that Mr. Barker seemed to be just as fond of novels as she was; it only made her like him more now that they turned out to have something like that in common. It seemed as if it was meant to be, as if they were indeed part of a plot instead of real life.

Usually, Nellie never liked it when she had to leave the store without a book, but the idea of sharing books with Mr. Barker was more promising than the prospect of reading the entire collection of the actual shop.


	5. Waiting 1

Waiting

Even though her husband would doubtlessly be angry with her because she had stayed away from their home until far past midnight, Mrs. Lovett couldn't stop smiling.

She had just spent quite a lot of time with Daisy, the woman who had been her best friend as long as she could remember. Recently, Nellie had become Mrs. Lovett and Daisy had become Mrs. Williams, and after they had married they had both left the area where they grew up together. Both working in their husband's shop now and taking care of the household, they hardly had time to visit each other like they used to do.

The past evening had been an exception of this. Even though there was plenty of work to do for both of them and their husbands preferred them to be at home, they had met earlier that day for the first time since months. The few hours that they had planned to spend together had turned into an entire evening and a part of the night; time had simply flown as they had chatted about their current lives and reminisced their mutual past. Daisy and she had gotten along just as well as they used to and, what Nellie appreciated even more, she had finally found someone whom she could tell about Benjamin Barker and the important place he had in her life.

Although Nellie didn't believe her when Daisy had told her that things between Benjamin and her would turn out to be wonderfully one way or another, it was a relief to be able to talk about her quickly developing feelings for the barber with someone who she could trust. Only when she was talking to her friend once again, Nellie had realized just how much exactly she had missed Daisy's support and understanding.

As she unlocked the door of the pie shop, she took in a deep breath, knowing that she had to be careful not to wake her husband, who certainly wouldn't be amused if she didn't only appear so late, but disrupted his sleep as well.

"Mrs. Lovett?"

The voice was sleepy but gentle and concerned, and addressed her in a way Albert never did.

"Mr. Barker?" she asked, almost dropping the key that she was still holding. "What are you doing here?!"

It wasn't the most polite thing to say, especially not to _him_, but she was so shocked to find the barber in the pie shop at two in the morning that she didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry," he said almost immediately, "I shouldn't have..."

But before he could leave like he clearly intended to, she grasped his arm. She presumed that she had listened to much to Daisy, who had told her to follow her heart when it came to the handsome barber of whom Nellie had spoken so affectionately.

The baker didn't agree with her best friend; allowing herself to fall for Benjamin Barker would make things much more difficult and awkward than they already were. It would do no one any good to get too close to him, especially not herself; Mr. Barker obviously did not return her blossoming feelings after all.

However, as her hand rested on Mr. Barker's arm, until it was already clear that he wouldn't leave just yet, she knew that her subconsciousness being had heard her best friend's words as well, and had agreed with them.

"It's alright," she said, "I'm just surprised to see you here."

"I must apologize for being in your shop at this hour," Benjamin said, "The reason I'm here is that I had trouble falling asleep. I hoped you were still awake, so we could perhaps discuss the book you bought last week. You weren't here however; Albert said that he didn't know when you'd return and that I should try again tomorrow."

"But you're still here," she said, her mind trying to process this strange fact.

"Well," the barber replied, obviously not certain about his own decision. "I was worried. I probably couldn't sleep before I knew that you had returned safely anyway, so I waited here for you."

Nellie's heart melted as this man, who was supposed to be nothing more than a tenant, was more concerned about her well being than most of her actual friends and family members, not to mention Albert himself.

"How very kind of you, Mr. Barker," she said, trying to remain talking to him as relatively formally as he doubtlessly expected of her. "I visited an old friend whom I hadn't seen for quite a while. We had a lot to chat about after all those months and we lost track of time."

The baker usually hated to defend her own deeds towards others, but to this man she _wanted_ to explain why she had returned to her home so late.

"I'm glad that you have enjoyed yourself, and that there wasn't something unpleasant preventing you from coming home," he said, smiling at her in that way that did strange things to her stomach. "However, it's a bit too late to talk about books now. And now that you have returned, I really should go back."

"Of course. I'm exhausted and I'm sure that you are tired as well."

Needing to rest or not, she wouldn't mind talking to him until dawn broke – but telling him so would betray too much of her growing affection. The thought of them resting together, lying closely to each other or even holding each other, briefly crossed her mind and caused so much internal havoc that she quickly forced herself to dismiss it.

However, as she looked in his eyes, she wished that there was something she could do to make clear to him to at least some extent how much it meant to her that he had waited for her, without going too far in doing so and crossing a boundary that she shouldn't in order not to lose his friendship.

A sudden idea hit her and without thinking, she moved closer to him and stood on her toes. Not allowing herself even the shortest moment of doubt even as her senses were overwhelmed by the very pleasant sensations that his close presence caused, she briefly kissed his cheek.

"Good night, Mr. Barker," she whispered, her lips still close to the skin they had just caressed.

It was Daisy's influence, she was sure of it: usually she never dared do such things, if only because she didn't want to risk the building friendship between Mr. Barker and herself. But now there was something that prevented her from remaining completely passive any longer and she presumed that Daisy's advice had triggered it.

She moved away from him, staring at his face while she hoped with her entire being that she hadn't gone too far after all.

The barber stared back, as if he couldn't believe what she just had done. But then he smiled, that wonderful smile that she loved so much but of which she thought that only Lucy had the honor of receiving it, and nodded to her.

"Good night, Mrs. Lovett."

A few seconds later he was gone, but to the baker it seemed that his presence still lingered in the room. Her lips were tingling and her body was trembling slightly because she had just kissed Mr. Barker's cheek, almost making it seem as if his soft and warm skin was still within reach.

Playing the tender moment in her mind again and again, she inwardly thanked Daisy for having given her the courage to approach Mr. Barker the way she just had.


	6. Ice 1

Ice

"Nellie, be careful!" Albert yelled, "if you get hurt, you'll find _and_ pay someone to replace you in the shop!"

His wife hardly heard him. In fact, Mrs. Lovett only increased her speed, savoring the feeling of the smooth ice beneath her skates.

Ice skating was, just like reading and spending time with Mr. Barker, one of her favorite things to do. When the opportunity presented itself, she enjoyed it as intensely as she could. Her husband didn't s hare her enthusiasm for ice skating, but had come with her anyway, if only make an attempt to prevent her from risking her physical well-being.

Nellie however had been ice skating as much as she could since she was just a little girl. She knew exactly how fast she could and could not go and which parts of the river Thames weren't suitable for ice skating even now that the days had been so cold for more than a week.

Albert being nothing but a small person in the distance now, just like most of the other ice skaters, the baker finally decreased her speed, but only slightly. Joy welling within her as the cold wind caressed her flushed skin and wild curls, she spread her arms and closed her eyes, feeling as if she could actually fly. She just continued skating, knowing that there was nothing before her but the endlessness of the frozen river.

However, this didn't last long. It seemed as if she had closed her eyes for only a moment when she collided with something that hadn't been there when she had looked around for the last time.

She shrieked with surprise as she lost her balance and fell, her entire body tensing in anticipation of the inevitable crash against the merciless ice.

But as the seconds passed, there was nothing but warmth and a gentle pressure around her waist.

Stretching her limbs to get up and curse at whoever had dared get in her way, she recognized the man who she had collided with.

"Mr. Barker!" she cried, her annoyance disappearing immediately when she recognized her husband's tenant.

He didn't react to her outburst and worry overwhelmed her when the man, who had made such an impression on her even though she didn't know him very well, was lying motionlessly on the ice.

"Mr. Barker?"

She realized that she hadn't been hurt because he had been protecting her with his own body, and that it was her fault that she had collided with him in the first place. Guilt rose within her; he probably wouldn't be unconscious if he hadn't made sure that she didn't get hurt and he wouldn't have had to protect her if she had been more careful, just like her husband had told her only minutes before.

The baker sat down next to him, being unable to do this quickly because of the skates that were still beneath her feet. She had to get rid of them before she could move down and she did so with trembling fingers.

"Mr. Barker!" she repeated, hoping that this would make him open his eyes.

This didn't work however and there was nothing that suggested that it would be enough to wake him if she'd try again. She wasn't even sure whether he was still breathing, but it was impossible to tell because the whistle of the wind was stronger than the possible sound of his breathing.

It was very clear to her that the barber couldn't be comfortable lying on the hard and cold ice. There wasn't much she could do to undo this, but there was a way that she was able to make his position somewhat less uncomfortable. Hopefully, it would make him recover faster.

She cradled his head in her lap, hoping that this would help him regain consciousness, if only to tell her how inappropriate this action was and how irresponsibly she had behaved.

The baker gently placed her hands against his face, caressing his skin and thinking that either the warmth of her skin or the actual touch might make a difference.

She had always thought that she'd go mad with excitement if she had the chance to touch Mr. Barker like this, but now she felt nothing but anxiety. He was hurt, it was her fault and she didn't know how to help him – she didn't even know what was wrong with him. There was no one she could ask for advice; the closest human beings were nothing but small, black dots on the horizon.

Desperation gave her one last idea. Warmth didn't seem to have any influence on him, but maybe cold did. She moved her hands over the frozen water beneath them until they got an unhealthy blue-gray color. She shivered now, the cold in her hands quickly spreading to the rest of her body.

Carefully, she brushed her cold fingers against his pale face, whispering his name urgently as she did so.

When he shivered visibly for the first time, she thought at first that it was only her imagination that made it seem as if he wasn't unconscious – or worse – anymore. But as she continued caressing his forehead and cheeks, he mumbled something unintelligible and opened his eyes slowly. She held her breath without being aware of it as his dark eyes focused on her.

"Mrs. Lovett?" he said in a somewhat hoarse voice.

"Yes," she said, nothing in her life having been so grateful to hear him speak to her.

He tried to sit up but the baker gently prevented him from doing so; she feared that he would feel unwell again as soon as he moved and needed some more time to recover from what had happened to him exactly before sitting up.

She was more than glad however that he was able to move up in the first place and the warmth returned to her body now that it seemed that Mr. Barker wasn't seriously hurt.

"What happened?"

He looked around for the first time as he asked this, his eyes widening as he did so. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't shocked by the fact that they were on the middle of the frozen river Thames, but because his head was resting in her lap.

"Mrs. Lovett," he gasped, sitting up abruptly once more before she could stop him, removing his head from her lap as quickly as he could. Just like she had feared, the movement hurt him and he grasped his head as he grunted with pain. Because of the physical discomfort he was incapable of preventing her from guiding him back to his previous position.

"I'm so sorry," she said, not entirely sure whether she was apologizing for the accident that she had caused or their current closeness that was doubtlessly awkward to him.

"Don't be," he muttered, closing his eyes and remaining lying like she wanted him to, this time without protesting. "It was my fault. I was skating too fast and I didn't look where I was going. I... I like to skate on the ice very fast, and then close my eyes and spread my arms... then I almost feel as if I can..."

His speech faltered as he saw the expression on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I was doing the exact same thing," she whispered, wondering how it was possible that this wonderful man seemed to have such an unlikely thing in common with her.

"You..." he seemed to be just as surprised as she was, and he looked at her as if it was the first time that he actually saw her, as if even their mutual fondness for reading didn't bond them like this particular preference did.

They stared at each other for a moment, but then he abruptly looked away.

"I should go home," he said, "my wife is expecting me to come home by now."

Mrs. Lovett was disappointed by this; obviously, she didn't want to leave Mr. Barker, especially not after such a revelation, but she also didn't feel like returning to her own husband at all.

"Are you going to stay here?"

Mr. Barker looked at her and it took a few moments before she fully understood what he had asked. The barber didn't know that Albert was there too and the enthusiastic look in his eyes suggested that he hoped that she would go back to Fleet Street together with him.

Sensing that her husband wouldn't really miss her if she didn't return to him soon anyway and that she didn't really care if he would, she attached the ice skates to her feet once more, just like Benjamin was doing, and stood up carefully next to him as soon as she was done.

They had to skate quite a distance before returning to the solid ground that would enable them to continue their way home by simply walking, but with Mr. Barker at her side, the journey could never be long enough.


	7. Dance 1

Dance

Nellie sighed as she watched the cheerful crowd around her. She had thought that coming here would made her feel better, but the dancing couples and the fast music didn't improve her mood like it used to do.

She had hoped in vain that the building where she spent so much time dancing when she was younger would prevent her from thinking of Mr. Barker and, most of all, her husband, who she had just escaped from. But even the place that had never failed to cheer her up in the past couldn't make her feel better now.

She had never liked it that Albert demanded her attention so often, but this time she just couldn't bring herself to sit at his side the entire evening, offering him things to eat and drink when he wanted to, and repairing the holes in his socks.

What she wanted to do was reading books with Benjamin Barker, laying close to the barber, preferably with her arms around him. They did read together these days, yes, but both of them were always seated on different couches, and he would never hold her like she wanted him to. But that didn't mean that she couldn't dream of this, couldn't imagine it, and she rather did that than having to endure the company of her actual husband.

So she had left their home without saying a word and, since Mr. Barker was spending his evening with his wife, the baker had returned to the dancing hall where she had spent many evenings before she was married.

But even now that she was there, she kept thinking of Benjamin and refused the offers of the several men who asked her to dance. He was the only one who she could think of, the only one who she wanted to dance with. And although the place reminded her of better times, rare moments that included neither him or her husband, she couldn't help but think of the barber, wondering what it would be like to be here with him, to have him all for herself.

And thus, when she saw a too familiar silhouette at the entrance of the hall, she thought it was just her imagination. But when she looked at the man carefully, after having blinked twice, it was impossible to deny: the man who had just entered was Benjamin Barker after all, and he was alone.

Even with the distance and the countless people that were between them, Nellie could tell that the barber wasn't at ease and didn't exactly know where he was.

Just when her mind began to speculate what he was doing here all by himself, he cast a glance in her direction and in spite of the fact there was a large and dimly lit room filled with dancing people between them, he saw her almost immediately.

A smile appeared on his face when he recognized her and Nellie shivered inwardly because of this. It was a wonderful yet hard to believe that Mr. Barker could smile to her like _that_, especially because it was just because he saw her.

As he began making his way to her, her heart began to beat faster – she had secretly hoped that he would appear as if by magic, but now that he was actually approaching her, she suddenly wasn't sure what to say or do.

"Good evening," he greeted once he was within hearing distance of her.

She mumbled a greeting in return, vaguely knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear it, that her for once quiet voice had gone lost in the noise of the room. But even though she wanted him to know how glad she was to see him, formulating sentences and pronouncing them clearly seemed suddenly difficult now that she had met him in such surprising circumstances.

"Can I join you?" he asked, gesturing at the not occupied seats that were around the table she was sitting at.

She nodded, very pleased that he wished to spent time with her.

"May I ask where your husband is?"

"He doesn't like to dance," Nellie replied, deliberately not mentioning the fact that her husband didn't like her dancing either and that he was still at their home, doubtlessly thinking of the best way to punish her for her behavior as soon as she got back.

Mr. Barker nodded; he seemed to accept her answer and apparently didn't want to know more about her being in such a place without her husband. She was glad because of this; the last thing she wanted to do was discussing the marriage that she was regretting more with every day that passed with the man who had made her aware of this without even being aware of it.

"I do enjoy dancing, but Lucy doesn't like to either," Benjamin said, sensing that she wondered the same thing about him. "She... well, she made me go out to meet my old friends, saying that it isn't good for me to be at home all day. She insisted, so..."

"But then why didn't you go somewhere with your friends?" the baker asked, somewhat confused because he was clearly just as alone as she was before he had joined her. She didn't want to ask too much, didn't want him to feel less at ease than he already was, but it was the only thing she could think of to say. At least it was better than being too surprised and overwhelmed by his presence to say anything at all.

"Well," Mr. Barker said, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I don't really have any of them left. When I met Lucy, I spent every free minute that I had with her, and after we moved to Fleet Street..."

"Then why didn't you just tell her that?" she asked as the barber's answer only raised more questions and added to her confusion.

"She would be upset, and I don't want her to be, especially not now."

Mr. Barker's situation mesmerized Mrs. Lovett, but it wasn't the right moment to think about his social life. Moments earlier he had told her that he liked to dance and the baker recognized a chance when she got one.

"I'm not your wife," she said carefully, "but I wouldn't mind dancing with you."

She hoped that this was the correct approach; she was more than eager to dance with him, but if he had only the slightest idea of how much she longed to spent her evening with him in such a way, he would doubtlessly refuse.

The barber scrutinized her for a moment. The look of delight and surprise that appeared on his face made her smile, both because it made him even more handsome and because her little plan had worked.

"I'd like that," he said, and it seemed as if he too attempted not to look as enthusiastic as he actually was. "But... are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, trying to prevent herself from laughing – being amused because he seemed to think that she could be reluctant about dancing with him was something that had to wait for a more suitable moment. "I haven't danced for years – Albert doesn't like to dance, like I already told you, but I'd love to try again."

If Benjamin needed more confirmation that she was willing to dance with him, she would give it to him.

Obviously persuaded now, he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it gladly as she got up herself and followed him to the dance floor. Her heart beat quickened and her breath became labored before she had even started dancing. Although she knew that this would get only worse, she didn't mind it at all – she only hoped that Benjamin wouldn't notice how much his close presence was doubtlessly going to influence her.

In retrospect, she couldn't remember the songs or the dances of that evening; all that she paid attention to and all that was stored in her memory were the physical sensations of dancing with Benjamin Barker. She remembered all of it; the gentle pressure on her back where his hand was resting, his other hand entwining with one of her own, how it felt to have his arms around her and how she shivered when their bodies seemingly accidentally brushed.

And when the hours passed and they felt more and more at ease, he subconsciously allowed her to dance closer to him and to rest her head on his shoulder, intensifying both the current evening and the memories that were going to be based on them.

The smile was back on the barber's face and his eyes twinkled as they danced, his obvious delight making her even happier than she already was.

Even before they returned to Fleet Street together, their arms linked as they leisurely walked back to their homes, she knew that she would cherish the memory of that night forever.


	8. Picture 1

Picture

Nellie couldn't help but stare at the paper that she was holding. She had seen it a few minutes ago for the first time; it was only a coincidence that she had happened to glance at the paper that Albert had finished reading a minute ago. He hadn't recognized the people that were printed in the corner of a picture at the upper half of page twelve, and she was grateful for it. She however had known immediately when the picture was taken and who two of the persons that could be seen on it were.

When the barber and she had danced together during the night they had accidentally met in the dancing hall, there had been a wedding party going on in a corner of the same room. The picture of the married couple was apparently important enough to be printed so large in whatever paper Albert was reading, but it wasn't the two recently wed people that caught her attention.

What that did interest her, were the woman and the man who were dancing behind the married couple at the moment that the photograph was taken. The two of them were oblivious to the bride and the groom and had been too engrossed in their dance to even notice the photographer and his equipment.

It was rather bizarre to see herself and Mr. Barker like this, in the paper of all places. The evening during which she had been so close to him, when she had felt the movements of his body against her own and both is arms and his now familiar scent had been around her, had seemed to be nothing but a wonderful dream once it had ended, no matter how detailed her memories were. But here it was, solid proof of the heavenly time she had spent with him.

For a long moment, she did nothing but stare at the picture. Even though she and Mr. Barker were only in the background of the image and it was thus quite hard to see them properly, she liked to think that they were a perfect example of affection and fondness. At least, it was impossible to deny that the barber was holding her and that her head was resting against his chest. But there seemed to be something more than that between them, as if her growing feelings for him were somehow lingering in the air that had surrounded them on that overwhelming evening and were visible even on the page of the low quality paper.

Suddenly, she knew that there was a perfect way to find out whether the people on the picture were more than just a dancing man and woman to anyone else but herself.

Not realizing that it was evening already and that Lucy wouldn't be as absent now as she was during the day, she went upstairs to show the picture to Mr. Barker. Not thinking about the consequences this could have, she wanted to find out how he would react if he would see proof of the affection and tenderness with which he had held her - and whether he would see it at all.

However, when she stood in front of the door to his barber shop and her hand rested on the doorknob already, she cast a glance through the small window next to the door. It was a habit of hers that had grown with her desire to see Mr. Barker as soon and as long as possible.

The sight that greeted her this time made her almost drop the paper that she was holding tightly. Inside the room were the barber and his wife, kissing gently as they embraced each other.

The baker's heart ached as she saw the couple like this for the first time. Whether Benjamin was always careful not to show so much affection to Lucy in public because he thought this to be improper or because he didn't want _her _to witness such things, she had never seen the barber and his wife like this before.

She didn't want to see personal moments between the married couple such as this one, if only because it made her long for the barber even more, but she found it impossible to look away from the display of love and tenderness.

Nellie realized now that the time she and Mr. Barker had read and ice skated together meant nothing. Even their dance, let alone the picture of it, was nothing compared to this. Between the barber and his wife was love, true love, something that she and Mr. Barker would never share, no matter how much she wanted it. She wasn't the woman who he looked at with _that_ gaze in his eyes, nor was she the one whose skin he caressed gently with both his hands and lips.

Her hand slid off the door-handle, all the urgency she had felt moments before forgotten as if it had never been there. Even if she still would've wanted to show the picture to him, she didn't want to disturb the moment that the couple was currently sharing. And even if she did, there was no use, and only now that she had seen the two of them when they thought that no one was watching them, she realized that Benjamin wasn't exaggerating whenever he spoke so fondly of his wife.

In their lives, in Mr. Barker's life, was no room for her – or at least, not the room she desired so much. What she was seeing now was the ultimate proof of it and it was not more than appropriate that she was seeing it from the outside of the brightly lit room, as if she was nothing but a bystander – and indeed, when it came to Mr. Barker's love life, she was.

After a long moment she managed to drag her eyes away from the man she loved and the woman who he loved, and went back to her parlor. She collapsed on the couch that Albert wasn't occupying and unfolded the paper to stare at the picture once more.

It took her some effort, but as she stared at the picture long enough, the memory of what she just had seen began to fade gradually. Mr. Barker would never be hers, but she reminded herself that a part of her had always known that and that thought had never prevented her from wondering, longing and dreaming before.

Besides, it wasn't that she could simply forgot about him and stop hoping anyway. They were friends at least, which gave her a good reason to talk to him often and spend more time with him than she otherwise ever would.

Making sure that Albert was still as uninterested in her as he usually was, she got a pair of scissors and carefully cut the picture out of the paper. She hid the image in the one drawer in the cupboard that was filled with items that belonged to her only, between the small pile of photographs of her family and friends that her husband never bothered to look at.

Even though they weren't meant to be, the barber and she had shared a wonderful evening that was almost like the way she ultimately wanted it to be. Whatever was going to happen between her and him, she had wonderful memories of that evening and the picture would continue her to remind her of them.

It was the only proof that it had been more than a dream, that _they_ were more than a mere illusion, even if her own memories and beliefs began to fail or waver, and even Lucy herself couldn't take that away from her.


	9. Comfort 1

Comfort

Mrs. Lovett sat quietly in a corner of the pie shop, surrounded by nothing but darkness. She tried to ignore the words that were echoing in her head, but she was incapable of doing so.

Although Albert and she often disagreed and quarreled, they never really fought... until now. They had yelled at each other for longer than Nellie could recall and things had been said that should've been left unspoken.

Their parents had arranged their marriage long ago and her husband didn't seem to care that he was married to a woman who he didn't love and who didn't really care about him. She was slowly but surely finding out however that there _was_ something he wanted: a son, at least one, to help in the shop and take over the business one day.

They had been married for almost a year now, and she still wasn't with child. Albert didn't care that she spent most of her free time with Mr. Barker – in fact, he even seemed to find it quite pleasant not to have her around him all day – as long as she'd give him an heir. She had always thought that the latter was the least of her problems, something that was going to happen no matter what.

Nellie hadn't been fond of the prospect of having _Albert's_ child, but now that she still wasn't pregnant she became more and more desperate for it.

The bad thing was that he was blaming her for the fact she wasn't pregnant yet. Perhaps he was right, and maybe he was not, but Nellie felt strongly that he couldn't hold her personally responsible for it either way. It was not that she was preventing a baby from growing inside of her on purpose.

She had ignored Albert at first, like she usually did whenever she could these days, but those complaints of him hadn't ceased after a while at all; they had only become more frequent and of a more accusing nature.

Unable to remain calm under his growing blame any longer, she had yelled back at him this night, screaming things that she didn't dare remember.

Albert too had lost his control, something that had never happened before. For a moment, she had been afraid that he would actually hit her. Whether this really had been his intention or not, he hadn't done so, something for which she was very grateful. Not because of the physical pain that it would have caused, but because he was, whether she liked it or not, the man she was married to and had to spend the rest of her life with.

But either way, their fight couldn't be undone and Albert wouldn't forgive her for quite some time – and she wouldn't forgive him soon either.

It wouldn't have bothered her so much if only she didn't at least partly agree with him. She had always been very fond of children and since she was just a little girl, she had dreamed of being a mother one day.

Marrying Albert at least had ensured _that_ dream to come true – or that was what she had thought. Now that Lucy's pregnant state became more and more obvious, the baker's wish for a child of her own, even if it was Albert's instead of Benjamin's, grew so much that it became hard to bear.

"Nellie?" The concerned voice of Mr. Barker made her shiver. For once, it wasn't a delight to hear him, not now that she had been thinking of him and the child that his wife was pregnant with, and the child that she didn't and apparently couldn't have herself. "Are you alright?"

She intended to lie to him. There were things she could never share with him, and this was one of them. But she made the mistake of looking up and meet his gaze, the twinkling of his eyes visible in the darkness. As his worried eyes searched for signs of her grief and whatever it had caused it, she couldn't pretend any longer.

The tears that she had managed to hold back for hours welled in her eyes and even though she was sure that there was no way that the barber could possibly see them, he somehow did. Sensing her distress, he rushed towards her and a few seconds later, she was pressed against Benjamin's chest and surrounded by his arms.

She was shocked by his concern because she wasn't sure if she could endure his presence at this particular moment without revealing things that she should not. But she was very grateful for it at the same time, because it was so extremely pleasant to know that _he _cared for her.

Being so close to him however made her feel so safe and protected, that she couldn't prevent her tears from falling any longer.

A moment later she was sobbing uncontrollably in his arms and although she was extremely embarrassed to break down in front of him, she couldn't find the strength to get up and leave him to go to a place where he couldn't see her tears and despair.

But Benjamin didn't say anything and didn't seem to be repulsed by her behavior. He simply pulled her closer to him and she found herself getting lost in the small and safe world that only contained him and her.

She hated that the first and doubtlessly last time that she was this close to her dear Mr. Barker had to be like _this_, but even as her body was trembling and she couldn't find any words to explain herself, she couldn't help but enjoy the pressure of his body against her own and the feeling of his breath against her neck.

His scent surrounded her too and she knew that she would smell of him for the coming few hours. It was a pleasant thought, as if it was her way of taking vengeance on her actual husband who thought more and more that she was good for nothing.

He caressed her hair tenderly with one hand, the other rubbing the small of her back, and Nellie vaguely realized that no one had ever made her feel as much at ease as Mr. Barker did, even though she was more upset than she had been for years. It was much easier to calm down this way, and even as the tears ceased falling he just kept holding her.

"I don't know what happened to make you feel like this," he said, not stopping his gentle caresses. "And I probably shouldn't know; it's about you, not about me. But if you want to talk about something other than books and ice skating, I'm more than willing to listen and try to give you some advice."

Nellie sighed, forcing herself not to feel _too _secure in the secure little world of Benjamin's arms. The offer was so tempting, but she knew very well that she couldn't tell him about the argument between herself and her husband. It was too personal and the story was too much related with her own, secret feelings for the barber himself.

"Thank you," she whispered, appreciating the offer so much even though she knew that she could never accept it.

The barber smiled affectionately at her, something she felt more than saw. It caused something deep inside of her to flutter and she wished more than ever before that the smile meant more than it actually did.

But as he continued holding her, rocking her body gently in his arms, it didn't really matter. Albert could say and do what he wanted, and Mr. Barker could be as unaware of her love for him as he was, but she had this. In a way, she had _him_, and perhaps it could be enough.


	10. Baking 1

Baking

"Mrs. Lovett?"

The baker turned around, not surprised by the sudden presence of the person who addressed her even though her back had been facing him.

Benjamin Barker always moved quietly, not making any unnecessary sounds, just like he was quiet in any aspect of his life. But still, whether she wanted to or not, she had become very good at hearing and recognizing the sound of his shoes on the wooden floors of her husband's house.

If she had known however that he would approach her at that very time, she would've chosen another moment to start baking a new batch of pies. Her clothes and even her hair were covered with flour and she rather talked to the handsome barber when her arms weren't covered in dough to the elbows.

"I'm sorry," he said when he saw that she was working. "I won't disturb you."

"Wait!" she said, a little louder than was appropriate.

She appreciated the barber's attitude very much – if only her _husband _would leave her alone when she was busy. But in contrary of Albert Lovett, she _did_ want to change her own plans and routine for Benjamin Barker. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, there's something you can do for Lucy," he said carefully, as if sensing somehow that she wasn't so tempted to do anything for the barber's _wife_. "Now that she is pregnant, she has these strange... cravings. She asked me for chocolate cookies... but we didn't have any of them and because all shops are closed now, I can't buy any."

Mrs. Lovett's smile had almost vanished when he had mentioned his wife's name, but it returned as she realized what he was implicitly suggesting. Although the cookies were meant for his wife, _she_ wasn't the one who was going to be there while she baked them.

"I wanted to bake the cookies myself," he said, oblivious to the fact that the auburn haired woman had already figured out what he intended to ask, "but I don't have the chance to do so in our own home because we don't have the correct equipment. And... well, I have to admit that I don't even know how to make chocolate cookies in the first place."

"Do you want me to help you, Mr. Barker?" she asked, smiling to him innocently, as if helping her would give her nothing except for the gratitude of her friendly neighbor.

"I would be very, very happy if you could help me, Mrs. Lovett. If it isn't inconvenient for you, of course."

"Don't worry," she said, "it isn't inconvenient at all."

It wasn't entirely true; the shop needed to be cleaned and new pies had to be baked for the following day, but she couldn't possibly deny Mr. Barker a thing, not when she knew that it would please her so much to spend more time with him and because she couldn't refuse him anything when he was looking at her so pleadingly anyway.

After a few minutes of discussing their approach and gathering the ingredients (Mrs. Lovett was very grateful that there was still some chocolate left after baking a batch of more expensive pies a few days before) they were ready to begin.

It was a good thing that Mrs. Lovett was quite fond of chocolate cookies herself and had baked them quite often before (much to her husband's annoyance). She could basically bake them without even opening her eyes and that was very useful now, for she could focus on nothing but the barber who was trying to help her with baking the cookies.

Mr. Barker's presence was quite distracting; not because he kept doing things wrong (which she found adorable) but because they were standing quite close to each other in the limited space around the working table (sometimes he was so close to her that she could feel the warmth radiating off him) and because their hands brushed every once in a while when they offered each other ingredients (which made her hand tremble so badly that it almost dropped whatever he had just handed her).

They talked when they were baking the cookies, and whether he asked her something about the process or just made a general remark or inquiry about her life, she found herself listening to his voice intently. She was sure that she would never tire of the sound of it.

The baker knew exactly by now how he pronounced his well chosen words with equal care, or how his voice changed if he disagreed or was enthusiastic about something.

Sometimes, when she was alone and didn't have anything to occupy her mind, she would pretend hearing his voice speaking to her when he wasn't actually there. She was getting better and better at imagining every detail of it. She even managed to hear say him things in her mind that he would never say, or at least, not to her. They were things that she had never heard him say and never would, because he only spoke to his wife in such fashion, when no one else could hear him.

She was sure that she could never get enough of hearing his voice, of _anything_ about him, and she wondered how Lucy was able to live with the wonderful man. The baker's hands were sweaty and her legs were shaking just now that they were _baking cookies_ together. She had no idea what her body would do ifthe barber would ever hold her with more than friendly affection, or _kiss _her, or... It was not that he ever actually would, but...

Thinking of things more intimate than that what they were currently doing was something she refused to do at that very moment, for the cookies would _certainly_ turn out in a way that they weren't supposed to if she couldn't control her thoughts.

Time flew when they worked together, and before she knew it, the cookies were ready to be placed into the oven.

"Now we just have to wait," she announced, feeling very pleased when Benjamin sat down on one of the old chairs in the bakehouse. He was clearly willing to wait with her until the cookies were completely ready instead of going back to his wife in the mean time.

Suddenly noticing that her fingers were still covered with a mixture of cookie dough and melted chocolate, she moved her hand to her mouth so she could lick her fingertips clean without giving the almost routine moment a second thought. Benjamin saw her doing this and smiled before doing the same thing with his own fingers.

She stared at him as he did so, even though she knew very well that it wasn't a wise thing to do. But the way Mr. Barker was licking his fingers made it impossible for her to look away, her heart beating faster as she imagined how it would be if _she_ would be the one sucking on his fingers or, perhaps even better, how it would feel if his tongue and mouth would lick the chocolate off her own.

Mrs. Lovett was very aware of the fact however that this would never happen and that she wouldn't even have moments like the one they _were _sharing if Benjamin Barker would ever find out that she wanted so much more of him than he could possibly give her.

She forced herself to look away from the display right in front of her and that was so much more delicious than the most exquisite chocolate.

The barber was luckily still completely oblivious to her thoughts. Not wanting to be confronted any more with things like this that made it even harder for her than usual to pretend that she felt nothing but friendship for the man who would never be hers, she waited until she was sure that all the chocolate had been removed from his fingers before she looked at him again.

Although he had just completely unintentionally upset her, Benjamin also had the strange talent to made her feel at ease without hardly doing anything. As he began talking about the latest book that both of them had recently read, she calmed again almost immediately and anticipated every second of the hour and a half that they had to wait until the cookies were ready.

Even though it was getting more and more difficult to spend time with the barber because his attention and presence meant so much more to her than the other way around, she realized once again that, given the circumstances, she didn't want it to be any other way.


	11. Haircut 1

Haircut

Mrs. Lovett sighed as she attempted to run her hands through her hair. She wasn't a vain woman and she didn't care about a few more or less wild curls that no comb seemed to be able to tame, but even in her opinion this simply wasn't right. Her hair reached far past her shoulders now that she had taken the pins out of it, and it was one big mess.

For once, she wished that she could afford a proper haircut, but she didn't have the time or the money for such things; she had to work during the day and the greater part of the evening, and no matter how many pies she sold, there were always more pressing matters that required the few pennies that Albert let her keep.

"I can do it for you," a voice behind her suddenly said.

Mrs. Lovett looked around, finding Mr. Barker standing on the threshold of her parlor. For a moment, she was horrified, not knowing how he would react at seeing her with her hair down for the first time. To her amazement, the barber didn't seem to be bothered by this.

"I usually don't cut women's hair," he said, not aware of her moment of worry. "But I do cut Lucy's."

He approached her, his gaze fixed on the curls that fell down her back. There was a look of concentration on his face, as if he was some kind of artist who was on the verge of beginning a new work.

She felt more like a project than a woman at that moment, but it wouldn't prevent her from enjoying this unusual kind of attention. She was rather sure that Benjamin wouldn't even consider cutting her hair if he had any idea how much this exactly meant to her anyway.

"You'd be willing to do that?" she asked, finding it somewhat hard to believe that Mr. Barker was actually offering to attempt taming her hair.

"Of course," he said, smiling enthusiastically, "I could do it right now, if you want."

The baker nodded, not trusting her voice to speak, and followed him as gestured to the ceiling and headed for his home. As they ascended the stairs together, she tried successfully not to stumble over her own legs, that were suddenly rather weak and unstable.

Her excitement decreased significantly however when she entered the tonsorial parlor. Lucy was sitting in a comfortable chair near the heater, knitting something Mrs. Lovett couldn't see. It was no doubt a piece of clothing meant for the child she was pregnant with – _Benjamin's_ child – and that could be born any day now.

Although she should've expected it, Nellie was surprised by Mrs. Barker's presence. She had spent so much time with the barber alone in the recent months that it was somewhat hard to remember sometimes that he wasn't only married, but that his wife also spent much more time with him than Nellie herself did.

However, Lucy simply greeted the baker as she entered the room, as if it was only normal that she appeared together with her husband like that, and continued her work.

Benjamin gestured her to sit down in the barber chair and Nellie did so gladly; how often she had wished to sit there and have the barber's attention focused on no one and nothing but her.

She almost shivered when he reached out for her hair and arranged it in such a way that he could take a good look at it. She tried not to think too much of the complete mess that her hair was and the fact that this meant so much more to her than to him.

"I'll have to comb it first," Mr. Barker said, and even if he were shocked by the state of her hair, his voice didn't indicate so. It made her smile, pleased that he didn't make an annoyed remark about it like Albert probably would've done.

"It may take a while," was all she said, but she hardly noticed. All she was aware of was the feeling of his hands that were twining in her hair, smoothing it down her back.

He sat down behind her, taking a comb that apparently had been in his pocket, and began to remove the tangles out of her curls with great care. When his left hand wasn't holding her hair to make the process less painful, it rested lightly on her shoulder, causing Nellie to enjoy and appreciate his attention even more.

Although Lucy was always unmistakably present in the background, Nellie wasn't bothered by the fact that the wife of the man that she wanted to be with herself was there during the special moment. Mrs. Barker was quietly humming a lullaby, probably for the child that was growing within her, and somehow it made the baker feel even calmer.

It almost felt to Nellie as if she too were part of the little family – perhaps she wasn't an actual member of it, wasn't the wife of the man who was currently combing her hair with infinite care, but she _was_ there, with him, and it was more than not having him at all, so much more than she could've hoped for.

"How do you want it?" he asked, and it took her a moment to realize that he was talking about her hair.

She opened her mouth to reply, but found that she didn't have an answer to his question. She hadn't thought about it – she hadn't really expected that he'd be able to actually comb her hair.

He helped her out of the chair and guided her to the large mirror in the corner of his room, as if he had already expect that she didn't know how she wanted him to continue.

Although she should pay attention to what he was saying, it was hard for her to focus on his words as he gently touched various places of her back, indicating how much he could cut off her hair.

"It's fine like that," she muttered after a few moments, knowing that she couldn't let Benjamin suggest possible lengths of her hair for much longer.

Although she was very aware of his fingers pressing lightly against her back, all she could think of was how this made her feel, not that there was an actual function the touch. But she didn't care, knowing that the barber would cut her hair more expertly than anyone had ever done anyway.

Seemingly satisfied by her answer, he guided her back to the barber chair, put a sheet around her so her dress wouldn't be covered with her cut hair, and begin his work.

Benjamin took his time, and although she usually never liked it when things took a long while, she didn't mind this now at all. Even though he was driving her wild without being aware of it every time he ran his hands through her hair, his fingers accidentally brushed against her neck or stood just a bit too close to her, she wished that the moment would never end.

It was almost cruel, the way that the barber could torment her so exquisitely without having any idea that he was doing it, how she had to resist her desire for him to remain in control over her being even though his touches were so innocent.

Even as the minutes passed and turned into an hour, it seemed as if she had been there for only a moment. And thus, when he told her that he was done, his work was finished much too soon for her liking.

He offered her his hand and walked with her to the mirror once more, this time to show her the result of his work.

Mrs. Lovett gasped as she saw her reflection. It took her a few seconds before she was sure that she was actually looking at herself. She hadn't been paying attention to what he was actually doing as far as his work didn't include physical contact and was thus even more surprised by the change. She presumed that he had only cut her hair and though she didn't think that he had used any tool except for a simple pair of scissors, it seemed as if he had magically transformed her usually impossible hair.

Not only was it more neatly combed than it had been as long as she could remember it, it had been reduced to a reasonable length; not too long, not too short, just perfect. It was no longer a bird's nest, like Albert sometimes called it, but it flowed neatly down to her shoulders. It wouldn't be difficult putting it up with her set of usually insufficient pins for quite some time.

But it wasn't only the length and lack of general messiness that surprised her. It seemed as if her hair was glowing, something of which she was rather sure that it had never been so before.

"It looks good," Lucy said from her spot near the heater, breaking the surreal moment. But before Mrs. Lovett had blinked and turned around to watch the other woman who had just reminded the baker mercilessly that the moment really wasn't anything more than it was, the barber's wife had continued knitting already, seemingly unaware of the strong emotions of the auburn haired woman.

"Thank you so much," she said to Mr. Barker, forcing herself not to show him completely how grateful she was.

"It's nothing," was all he said, smiling in that modest way that she loved.

"It means a lot to me," she said, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

"It's really alright," he said, once again oblivious of the full meaning of her words. "You've done so much for me, and for Lucy, and I'm just happy that I can do something back."

It was one of the moments that she wanted him to know that he didn't have to return her favors, as if he was merely paying her back. But she couldn't do this, not without revealing how much he truly meant to her and thus doubtlessly ruining everything that was between them.

"Thanks again," Nellie said, heading for the door. Thus far she had always managed to get away from Benjamin before she'd do something that she shouldn't, and she told herself that this wouldn't be an exception.

He nodded to her, and bad her goodbye at almost the same time as Lucy did. It amazed the baker how the other woman was so much aware of her presence without even looking at her, and seemed to think and say things at the same time as her husband did. But it wasn't something that she could think of now that Mr. Barker was still so close to her.

Quickly forcing her shortened hair in some sort of bun so she could properly return to her home, she moved to close the door behind her. The barber however was still standing in the doorway.

"Nellie," he said, as he began closing the door himself, "if you need another haircut, just let me know. I'd be delighted to do it for you."


	12. Sleep 1

Sleep

Mrs. Lovett was woken by a noise that was coming from the pie shop. Although it wasn't loud, she was alarmed immediately. She cast one glance at her sleeping husband, knowing that he wouldn't wake before dawn no matter what she'd try, and sighed deeply. During the day she could rely on her husband to look after their property, but he was useless at night and then it was up to her to protect their house and shop.

She got out of bed quickly and reached for the roller pin that was standing in a corner of the room. One of the handles was broken, but that didn't make it any less suitable to mash the skull of whomever it was that had entered the shop without permission.

Barefooted, she quietly headed for the shop, quickly becoming aware of someone who was walking slowly in the middle of it as she did so. She couldn't really see him, but she didn't have to see more of him than she was already doing in order to make sure that he would thoroughly regret trespassing.

Tightening her grip around the former cooking utensil, the baker launched forward, knowing that she would have to surprise the man completely in order to survive. She had to hurt him badly before he could even realize that she was there; she didn't have a chance against him in an actual fight.

Just before the merciless wood hit his head, he turned around, as if sensing her presence. And it was a good thing that he did.

"Mr. Barker!" she shrieked, recognizing the man at the very last moment and being able to lower the rolling pin just in time.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said quickly, his eyes wide with shock. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"_Sorry?"_ the baker repeated, "if there's someone who's sorry, it's _me._ I almost smashed your head!"

"And I would've deserved it," Benjamin sighed. "It's not my right to show up here like this. But Johanna kept crying and Lucy has to rest as much as she can now that she gave birth, so I took our daughter to a place where her crying won't disturb her. I thought you wouldn't notice if I…"

As he was speaking, Mrs. Lovett became aware of the bundle in his arms; she could only see the child now that he had turned around. It was the first time that she could take a proper look at the girl who was born only a few days ago.

"I understand," she said quickly, suddenly not really knowing what to say. She had thought of many ways to congratulate the barber, but now that the three of them weren't surrounded by others anymore at last, she couldn't think of the right thing to say.

She didn't care _why_ he was there though, it only mattered that he _was_ in her pie shop in the middle of the night. Johanna was with him, but the girl seemed to be sleeping now at last, and it was just like she and Benjamin were actually alone.

"Just let me get some light," she said, discreetly dropping the roller pin on a table behind her. She was amazed how lightly Mr. Barker took the fact that she had almost killed him, but she was very relieved that he didn't seem upset at all.

She returned a moment later, carrying a candle with her, to find the barber standing awkwardly in the room with the little girl in his arms. His eyes widened in shock as soon as he saw her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, but as she followed his gaze and looked down, she knew the answer.

She was wearing nothing but her nightgown, her hair cascading down her back and her bare feet looking even smaller now that she wasn't wearing any shoes and stockings. No one but her husband had seen her like this as long as she could remember. She didn't mind at all that Benjamin saw her in this inappropriate state, but Mr. Barker himself clearly did.

"I'll get dressed," she said quickly, not wanting the barber to leave her and return to his room now that she had met him during such unexpected but promising circumstances.

"You should go back to bed," he said, "I can go somewhere else."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Lovett said, the wheels in her mind spinning at high speed to think of an excuse to spend more time with Mr. Barker. "I can't sleep anyway and you shouldn't go outside with Johanna; it's much warmer in the parlor.

The first part wasn't a complete lie: she _wouldn't_ be able to sleep if she'd go to bed now with the thought that she _could've _been with him instead. To her relief, he agreed reluctantly and allowed her to guide him deeper into the house.

Gesturing him to sit down on a couch, she disappeared into her bedroom and quickly put on her shoes and coat, not bothering with socks and stockings, let alone her dress and corset, now that he was sitting in her parlor, waiting for her.

He wouldn't be able to see what she was wearing beneath the coat and shoes anyway. _He_ wouldn't take such an initiative, and Nellie was rather sure that there were few men who wouldn't take advantage of the situation – wouldn't take advantage of _her_. But no, he would never do such a thing, even though she _wanted_ him to. It both saddened her and made her love him even more.

When she returned to him once more, the barber was dozing off on the couch, holding Johanna gently but firmly in his arms. When she approached him, his eyes opened sleepily.

"I'll stay here for half an hour, if you don't mind," he said, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a yawn as he did so. "By then, Lucy is surely sleeping. I hope it doesn't trouble you if I stay here until then. When I leave, I'll make sure to be more quiet than I just was, so I won't wake you again."

His words clearly suggested that he wanted her to go back to bed herself, if only because he would feel guilty for keeping her up. Nellie however didn't want to return to her cold bedroom and snoring husband, and most of all she didn't want the leave the barber. She couldn't just tell him so however, not without exposing more of her affection for her than was good for both of them.

But then she saw the small child in his arms, and little Johanna gave her a very welcome idea.

"I'll hold her for you," she said quickly, before the barber could drive her out of her own parlor. "You are tired and you'll rest better when you don't have to worry about accidentally hurting Johanna when you sleep. I'll wake you when half an hour has passed."

Benjamin obviously wanted to protest but he was too tired to do so. Yawning his defeat, he handed her his daughter with infinite care.

Mrs. Lovett had never held the child before; although the father showed her now that he trusted her with his daughter, it usually was Lucy who looked after the child and she didn't want anyone to hold her baby except for her husband and herself.

Mr. Barker didn't warn her to be careful with the child and it warmed her heart that he implicitly trusted her to take good care of his young daughter. The baker however didn't have much experience with children, let alone with such young ones, but she felt confident enough as soon as the barber showed her how told the little girl.

Once Johanna was safe in her arms, Benjamin made himself comfortable next to her on the couch. Mere moments later, his eyes were closed and his breathing slowed and for a long, long moment the baker just watched him as she held the child. She wished once more that this was something that she could experience day after day and that this was more than a moment that she was basically stealing from another woman.

She rocked the child gently in her arms, breaking her gaze away from the barber to study the girl. She had seen Johanna before of course; Benjamin was far less reluctant to let her admire the child than his wife was. But never before the baker had had the chance to be so close to Johanna and actually hold her.

Nellie had known already that Mr. Barker's daughter was a beautiful child, but as she was holding the quietly sleeping girl in her own arms, the perfection of the small human being and the likeliness to her father was almost overwhelming. Never before her wish to be the actual mother of the child had been so strong.

As he was sleeping, Benjamin's body shifted slightly, until he subconsciously leaned against her and rested his head on Mrs. Lovett's shoulder. The baker closed her eyes, holding her breath as she felt the barber's body against her own. Only when he didn't wake and didn't show any sign of discomfort of awkwardness, she relaxed slightly and, when she was entirely sure that he wasn't aware of it, she rested her head against his.

Johanna wasn't her daughter, just like Benjamin wasn't her husband. But in this moment, when she held the child and the barber was sleeping right next to her, it had never been easier to pretend.


	13. Confrontation 1

Confrontation

"Benjamin?" Mrs. Lovett said cheerfully as she heard the door of her parlor open. Her husband had gone out to drink with his friends, again, but the young baker didn't mind at all; it only prevented him from knowing how much time she spent with their tenant. "I'm so glad you came early, a few days ago I read something that you'd really..."

"I'm afraid that I'm not _Mr. Barker_," a female voice said.

Nellie turned around quickly to see who had spoken to her and now entered the parlor. To her shock, it was not the barber with whom she had arranged to meet so they could discuss another book, but his wife.

Mrs. Lovett was glad for a new reason now that Albert wasn't at home. She didn't know why Lucy was here but the look on the face of the woman with the yellow hair made very clear that whatever she was going to say, it was not something that the baker was going to like and something that her husband shouldn't hear at all.

Mrs. Barker sat down on a couch next to the one that the baker was currently sitting on without asking permission, which made clear to Nellie once more that she was not going to like whatever Mr. Barker's wife was going to say to her. After all, the woman was usually so polite that it almost annoyed the baker.

"I want to ask you a question," Lucy said quietly, "and I hope that you'll give a truthful answer."

The feeling that a disaster was approaching grew even stronger as she noticed that the other woman was scrutinizing her intently now.

"Are you in love with my husband?"

She had expected a question like this. She had always known that sooner or later someone was going to find out somehow. Lucy was the one of their spouses who was most likely to do so; Albert would only suspect something if he'd witness Benjamin and her engaging in far more intimate activities than the two of them had ever done and ever would.

But still, even though she had known that Lucy would figure out her attraction and love for Benjamin sooner or later, the question still came as a shock. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare at the woman who had managed to capture Benjamin's affection in a way that Nellie herself never had.

Lucy was fidgeting with her necklace – one that her husband had doubtlessly given her – which made clear to the baker that the other woman wasn't as confident as she tried to be.

Their eyes met and for the first time, Mrs. Lovett realized that it wasn't mere uncertainty that troubled Mrs. Barker – she actually was afraid. During that moment Nellie understood that Lucy wasn't entirely the naive and lucky woman she had always thought her to be, that the yellow haired woman didn't take her life and the wonderful man that was part of it for granted after all.

If it hadn't been for the situation, the baker would've been mildly amused by the now obvious fact that Lucy actually feared that Benjamin wasn't completely loyal to her and really seemed to think that she was in the danger of losing her husband to another woman.

As she tried to process this new insight, Nellie knew that she couldn't lie to Lucy. A part of her had always been entirely certain that she couldn't have Benjamin anyway and it seemed too cruel to torment the woman who he did love. And as Mr. Barker's wife looked at her with eyes that were filled with fear and insecurity in spite of her obvious attempt to stay calm and in control, the baker knew that she couldn't deceive her even is she would've wanted to.

But still, it was so painful to say the words aloud, if only because her heart had kept hoping – and always would – in spite of what her mind knew and had always known. And so she nodded weakly, indicating that the answer to Lucy's question was "yes" without having to speak the seemingly simple and innocent word that hurt her more than Albert's indifference and impatience had ever done.

Another long silence followed, and to prevent herself from being crushed by the new reality that Mr. Barker's wife knew about her love for the barber, the baker forced herself to imagine how nerve-wrecking it would be if _she _were the one was married to the barber, but with the knowledge that there was another woman – even living in the same building – who loved him at least as much as she did and whom he spend almost more time with.

When Nellie fully realized for the first time how distressed she would be if her and Lucy's place where reversed, the other woman's fear and worry were even more obvious to the baker.

"I saw the two of you together," Mrs. Barker said, almost more to herself than to the baker. "At first I was happy for Benjamin because you were such a good to friend to him. It seemed so innocent, but after a while it seemed to me that there was something strange about you whenever you talked to him or even looked at him... something that made me worry."

"You don't have to worry," the baker muttered as she stared at the floor, unable to meet the other woman's gaze. "I know very well that Benjamin will never love me back."

She had always known this, but as Mrs. Lovett said it the aching that never ceased to torment her grew even worse than it usually was whenever there was a moment that made her realize that the man she loved would never return her feelings.

The baker had always felt that there had to come a day that she had to stop pretending, that she had to prevent herself from hurting herself any longer by allowing her to belief even for the shortest moment that she could truly be with Mr. Barker one day.

This was the perfect moment to admit fully to herself that it was only foolish to have the tiniest bit of hope. But even as she told Mrs. Barker herself that there was nothing like romance between Benjamin and herself, she couldn't let go off her dream and illusion. Without it, not being loved by the barber seemed completely unbearable.

Lucy stood up abruptly, as if she suddenly couldn't stand being in one room with the baker any longer now that Mrs. Lovett had confirmed her suspicion. Maybe she wanted to escape from the despair that began to radiate off the auburn haired woman, or perhaps she felt that staying with the baker would make things only worse and more painful.

Mrs. Barker opened her mouth as if to bid the baker goodbye or offer her support, but then changed her mind as she didn't seem to be able to find the right words. Lucy left the parlor without saying a word, leaving a devastated Mrs. Lovett behind.


	14. Confirmation 1

Confirmation

As soon as Lucy Barker left the parlor, tears began to burn in Nellie's eyes. No matter how well she had known that it was inevitable, pain and despair overwhelmed her with increasing intensity as it dawned on her what just had happened.

The consequences of Lucy's insight were even more severe than she had initially thought. The baker realized fully for the first time that it was perhaps more than the hope of being more than just friends with Mr. Barker that was gone now.

Lost in sad thoughts and her vision clouded by tears, she wasn't aware of the man who entered the parlor and only realized he was there when he was standing right in front of her. By then it was too late to even attempt to compose herself.

But even if she had had time to prepare herself, there was nothing that could've made her ready for being face to face with Benjamin Barker himself mere minutes after his wife had confronted her with her true feelings for the barber.

"Mrs. Lovett," he began, and it was enough to send another wave of tears down her cheek. He just didn't address her formally; he had stopped doing so as they became friends, which seemed suddenly so far away but not long ago yet at the same time.

She had cherished every time that he had used her given name to get her attention for as far he didn't have it already, but even though every time that her first name had rolled off his lips so naturally was imprinted in her memory, she found it hard to remember these moments as he made clear this way that the days that he spoke to her so informally were over before he had even really begun to talk to her.

"I spoke to Lucy," he said, for once avoiding her gaze as he did so.

"She said..." He stared at her, as if he was still unable to believe what his wife had told him. "Is it true?"

His voice was trembling, as if a part of him still thought that it was impossible for her to be actually in love with him while the majority of his being blamed himself for whatever he had done that had made her fall in love with him.

She dared thinking for a moment that not everything was lost yet; Mr. Barker clearly was hoping to hear that it wasn't true, that his wife for once was mistaken and that there was nothing that he had to worry about, that it was all one painful but harmless misunderstanding.

But Mrs. Lovett hadn't been able to lie to Lucy, and a part of her hadn't wanted to. Lying to Benjamin was something she just couldn't do, and she knew in her heart that it wouldn't make a difference. From now on the barber would be on his guard around her, no matter what she'd say, and things between them would change anyway except for the most important part: that he would never love her in the way she wanted him to.

Saying the words aloud to Lucy was something she hadn't been able to do, and admitting to Benjamin what she truly felt for him was of course even harder than confirming the suspicious of his wife.

She nodded to indicate that what Lucy had told him was true after all, the movement of her head so small that it was hardly noticeable for the barber. But he did see her nonverbal answer and a visible tremble went through him as he learned the truth about her feelings for him at last.

"I had no idea," he whispered, saying aloud what she had known for a long time already as he stared at the floor. "If I would've known..."

He didn't finish the sentence and Nellie was glad that he didn't. Even though it was ending now like _this_, she and Benjamin had shared a lot of moments that she would remember with painful affection and love for the rest of her days.

Mr. Barker opened his mouth to speak again and the baker almost wanted to prevent him from talking somehow, not sure whether she'd be able to hear him say that he regretted all the time that they had spent together now that he knew that she was in love with him, that the moments they had shared in the recent past meant something completely different to her than to him.

But the look in his eyes prevented her from interrupting him; she saw that this was for him too very difficult and painful. There were things that he wanted her to know and if he didn't speak now, he feared that he never had the courage again to do so.

"You're like a sister to me," he said quietly, looking everywhere but at her.

That one sentence hurt her more than anything that had been said to her in the past, and the worst thing was that this wasn't meant in an unfriendly way.

Benjamin wanted to say more, probably to explain why he had enjoyed spending so much time with her even though he hadn't shared her feelings at all, but he was too much aware of the despair that was overwhelming the baker.

Sobs wrecked Nellie's body, even as she forbade herself to cry as long as Mr. Barker could see her. In the past his presence had always soothed her sadness, but now she knew too well that it would make things only worse – much worse.

But it was impossible to control herself now that the barber's awkward behavior around her clearly showed that not only she had lost all possibilities and hope that there would one day be more between them than mere companionship, but that she had lost him as a friend as well.

In the past, Benjamin would've held her in his arms, rocking her body gently, soothing her with tender caresses and quiet words. It didn't matter what had upset her; he would support her without asking questions and listen to her with all his attention if she wanted to talk.

But he would never do so again now that he knew that those moments meant something so different to her than to him. Never again she would feel his arms around her, or would she be able to bury her face in the fabric of his shirt until he had made her feel at ease once more. Never again would she feel his warm breath against her neck or his solid body against her own, never again...

"I truly had no idea," he muttered, clearly distressed by her sadness and pain but not able to help her – not anymore. "I'm truly sorry for any moment that I accidentally made you believe that there was more between us than..."

The uncertainty and regret in his eyes was obvious, but Mrs. Lovett was unaware of it. She had somehow hoped that Benjamin would find a way to calm her even now, but he did nothing but look awkwardly at her as she covered her face with her hands in a useless attempt to find some sort of comfort, at least as long as he was watching her.

It hadn't surprised her that Lucy had left without saying a word only a few moments ago, and in spite of the situation she had thought that her husband would do this differently. No matter what he knew now, he had been her friend for a long time and he couldn't just let that go – or could he?

But just like his wife Mr. Barker left without saying one more word now that he too couldn't deny any longer that she felt much more for him than she should. He did extend his hand to her, as if touching her shoulder or head briefly would make her somehow feel better, but he changed his mind at the last moment. He seemed to think that anything he did would make things only worse, and turned around quickly to leave the suddenly too small parlor.

Grief was so much harder to endure when Benjamin wasn't at her side and now that she had lost his friendship as well, the despair she felt was even greater.


	15. Closure 1

_I'm incredibly sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter. Except for the fact that it was by far the most difficult (and longest) one of the story so far, life wasn't being very helpful either. However, in spite of a demanding preparation for a re-take exam, an awesome but exhausting holiday to Hungary, an unexpected Inception obsession and, most of all, an allergic reaction on my hands that turned into an infection and left me literally incapable of writing for almost a whole month, I proudly present the final chapter of the first part of this story._

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Closure

Lucy looked nervously around her as they approached the dark gate, but Nellie knew how things like this worked and she fluently slid the coins into the hand of one of the men that was guarding it. The young baker knew by now that everything had a price – everything, except for the few things that truly mattered.

Mrs. Lovett also knew very well that what she was about to do wouldn't make things better – if anything, the situation would get even worse. But even though it cost her a small fortune – she wouldn't be able to buy any books for herself for a very long time – it was something that she had to do. Seeing Benjamin one last time was worth it.

Now that she had heard that he was going to be banished within a few days, no matter how innocent he was, her heart knew that this was the last chance that she had to see him. Actually talking to him or making her presence known to him was not an option however, not now that he had found out her true feelings for him and he had left her so abruptly after he had confronted her. Since that day he hadn't talked to her anymore, let alone laughed with her or read together with her like he used to do. If anything, it was rather obvious that he had been avoiding her.

Now that he was just as aware of her love for him as she had been for almost a year, it was clear that he wanted to have nothing to do with her anymore. She didn't blame him – although she obviously had been thoroughly disappointed and she still hoped with her entire being that there would happen something that could bring them together after all.

It was cruelly ironic that she had been absolutely sure that nothing worse than that could happen. Now that he was arrested and would be taken completely out of her life, she knew how wrong she had been during those desperate days that missing him in her daily life seemed to be the most horrible situation possible.

Lucy had only accepted her help because she had no idea how to bribe her way into the prison where her husband was held. Nellie didn't either, not really, but she was more than willing to pretend – even though that meant that she had to pose as the sister that Benjamin truly had never had.

Nellie had considered the possibility for two sleepless nights, but in the end she had decided that she'd help Lucy to see her husband one more time, and thus being able to see the barber for the last time herself. No matter how painful it would doubtlessly be to be hiding somewhere just out of his sight as he said his final goodbye to his wife, it was better than nothing at all. This was the last chance she was ever going to get to see him and if she didn't go, she knew that she'd regret it forever.

The guard nodded as he had hid the coins in his pocket so quickly that even Nellie hardly could the flash of silver, seeming to accept their explanation that they wanted to see their husband and brother one last time. Without saying a word, he guided them through the small door that was part of the gate.

Once inside, another guard approached them. He didn't seem to be surprised at all to see two women who clearly weren't prisoners inside the dark and immense building; he simply gestured them to follow him and led them deeper into the probably never ending darkness of the stinking corridors in the building. It was clear that they weren't the first and doubtlessly not the last persons who spent their bitterly earned money on visiting their relatives one final time.

With a trembling voice Lucy told the guard which prisoner they wished to see and after he had cast a quick glance on a long list with names in a small room that seemed to be some sort of station for the prisoner's personnel, the guard led them even further into the intimidating building.

After a long minute of walking through dimly lit corridors and rooms with low ceilings, they entered a larger area that was next to several long rows of cells, where countless prisoners were being held. The thought that Benjamin was somewhere between them was both a relief and a shock to Nellie – at least she knew now where he was, but the place was so horrible that it was perhaps better not to be aware of the conditions in which he was forced to live now.

The two women quickly caught the attention of the prisoners. Nellie however, unlike Lucy, was so absorbed by the thought that she was going to see Benjamin for the very last time, that she wasn't aware of the obscenities that were yelled at them.

After a long moment the two of them were guided into a smaller room, which was once again surrounded by bars, but here were no prisoners, even though their noise still could be heard loudly.

Before Nellie even understood what the guard was going to do, the man approached Lucy and roughly moved his hands over her body. Horrified, the baker stared at her tenant and the guard, fear welling inside of her for the first time. Only when he hissed something about weapons, she realized that he was making sure they didn't smuggle anything into the prison in a most unpleasant way.

The baker prevented herself from looking at Lucy, as if she could make it somewhat easier for the other woman that way, and tried not to hear the squeals of shock and horror of the yellow haired woman.

After a long minute, Nellie was approached by the guard as well. As his hands groped her, she closed her eyes, trying to think of Benjamin's smiling eyes as he sat next to her, discussing a book with her, or the raw desire she had felt when they baked cookies together.

When the hands were gone at last, Mrs. Lovett and Mrs. Barker were pushed forwards, further into the room that they just had entered. The guard disappeared into the darkness, but it hardly made the baker feel more at ease. The two women looked at each other and for the first time Nellie felt some sort of companionship between them. They were there for the same reason and had to go through the same in order to see the man they both loved for the very last time. The thought that she wasn't the only one having to experience this was almost comforting.

A moment later, a man was dragged into the other half of the dimly lit room, which was separated by rusty bars from the part of the area that the two women were already standing in. It took Nellie a moment to see that the bruised and blood-covered man was not just _a_ man, but the barber who she had fallen in love with. As soon as the two guards released their hands from his arms, Benjamin fell gracelessly on the dirty floor.

A gasp right next to her indicated that Lucy too had recognized the man. Nellie was rooted to the ground for a moment as she wondered what must've been done to the usually so strong and healthy Mr. Barker to make him look like _that_. His wife however rushed to the bars as soon as she had realized that the beaten man was in fact her husband.

"Benjamin!" she screamed, "Benjamin!"

As he heard the voice of his wife, the barber looked up. Mrs. Lovett shivered involuntarily as she took a first look at his face. It was covered in blood and bruises and his expression was one of pure fear and despair.

The guards had retreated and the barber was still dozens of feet removed from the bars that separated him from his wife. The baker was sure that the wounded man couldn't cross the distance between them.

After another plea of Lucy however, he managed to drag himself towards the yellow haired woman and the bars between them.

Not wanting to be a spectator of their short reunion, Mrs. Lovett retreated into a dark corner and stared at the wall. Watching the married couple at that very moment wasn't something she thought she could handle, both because it was the last time that she would ever see Benjamin and because, even now, _she_ wanted to be the one clinging to him, the one whose hand he was holding.

She closed her eyes, trying to block the sound of the two voices behind her, and tried once more to pretend that all this wasn't happening. But just like the other times, she didn't find a single moment of release from the actual situation.

The voices of the barber and his wife were harder to ignore with each word that was said, probably because Lucy's voice was gradually raising. Benjamin's however remained the way it was.

In spite of herself, the baker turned around to watch the man she loved and the woman who was the one who was actually married to him. To her surprise, the barber wasn't as terrified and upset as she thought he would be. In fact, he looked rather calm and stoic, looking as if he wasn't going to be banished to the other side of the world after all.

Bewildered, the baker took the two of them in, wondering how incredibly strong Benjamin had to be in order to be able to hide his fear like this, or whether he truly wasn't afraid for some reason.

Even when Lucy wasn't capable anymore of holding back her tears, Benjamin kept gently talking to her, wiping her tears away as he tried to ease her fear and worry.

Nellie had expected to find a broken man – no one wouldn't be when such a crime of injustice was committed against them. Even though she didn't think that he was really as calm as he appeared to be now, it was a relief to the baker to see him like this. His strength gave her hope. She had thought that he was too kind and too gentle to survive a banishment in the far colony, but now that she saw him like this, it suddenly seemed possible for him to keep himself alive.

The couple continued talking and Lucy gradually lowered her voice. Nellie couldn't hear anymore what they were talking about, but just like before she felt more at ease when she wasn't aware of everything that happened between the married couple that soon would be separated for the rest of their lives.

Just watching Benjamin was all she could do and it was enough for the baker. Taking him in for the very last time, studying the beautiful lines of his face that were obscured now by blood and dirt. For the rest of her life, the memories would be the only part of him to keep her company.

Lingering in the shadows, the baker watched the frantic interactions between Benjamin and Lucy. They had already lived their time together, no matter how short it was, and this last meeting probably only reminded them of the life that fate didn't allow them to have. His wife obviously wanted to stay at his side for as long as she could, but Benjamin urged Lucy to go home, probably because he didn't want her to be in the prison that wasn't a place for an innocent man, let alone his wife.

Mrs. Barker allowed herself to be persuaded at last to go home and so she left before a guard had ordered to do so, blindly finding her way out of the prison without assistance. As the other woman passed her with haste, Nellie saw the tears running down her face and for a moment, she realized that this had to be even harder for Lucy. The baker herself hadn't known Benjamin like Mrs. Barker had, hadn't belonged to him like the other woman did. She was losing him, but in a way, Lucy was losing him more.

Mr. Barker's wife was clearly completely upset and Mrs. Lovett wasn't surprised that Lucy had forgotten about her presence. She was grateful for this however, because she now somewhat had the chance to say her personal, silent goodbye to the love of her life, standing in the darkness just like she had always been in Lucy's shadow.

Benjamin buried his head in his dirt-covered hands and more than ever, Nellie wished that she could go with him, that she could share and ease his burdens. She'd rather be dying with him than living her life alone, but she knew too well that this wasn't possible.

"Nellie."

His voice caught her completely by surprise. He wasn't even supposed to know that she was there, let alone call her _that_ name – he hadn't done so since he had found out that she loved him in a lot more than a sisterly way.

"Benjamin," she replied carefully as she stepped towards the bars that were between them. There was no use to keep hiding now that he had seen her.

"The guards said that there were two visitors for me when they took me here. It wasn't hard to guess who the other one was."

_The other one_. Even in the current situation, the words hurt. But Nellie just nodded, knowing that it was her place no matter how much she hated that, and felt foolish because the barber had known that she was there even as she was thinking to be completely invisible. It was rather suitable though; Benjamin saw her when no one else did in her usual life, just like he did now. It was one of the many reasons that she loved him and one of the many reasons that it hurt not being the one who he belonged to.

When she kneeled down in front of him, she saw that he looked much worse than she had initially thought. It were not the wounds though that horrified her, but the look in his eyes. Although he appeared to be very calm, the despair was clearly readable in his gaze from this short distance.

Two pairs of dark eyes locked and something in his gaze changed when he looked at her. His expression was still betraying the fear and the horror that was experiencing, but it had softened somewhat, as if her presence somehow made him feel slightly better.

"I'm glad that you're here," he whispered and reached for her hands through the iron bars that separated them.

As Benjamin's hands held hers once again, Nellie knew that he had forgiven her for what had happened between them, for the only secret that had ever stood between them. He knew now of her true feelings for him, and even though he didn't return them, he accepted them, just like he accepted her.

The baker had had the suspicion that Mr. Barker had been pretending to be calmer and less afraid than he actually was when Lucy was with him in order not to upset her even more, and when the first teardrops slowly made their way down his dirt-covered cheeks, she knew that she had been right.

Mrs. Lovett intuitively reached for him, wiping his tears away, but they were replaced by new ones immediately. Before she knew it, the barber was crying, breaking down at last. She embraced him as closely as the bars allowed them and to her relief, he returned the gesture, clinging to her as if she was his only hope of survival, as if she was the one who could somehow make things right again.

Nellie couldn't hold back her own tears anymore either and for the first time, she could fully share her grief - with Benjamin himself. The barber and the baker hold on to each other as their bodies were wrecked with increasingly violent sobs.

Time ceased to exist, just like the world around them, when they were together for the last time. Even though the bars were between them, preventing them from really holding each other, she felt like she had never been closer to him before. No matter how desperate the situation was, being together again was a huge relief that helped them calm down.

They didn't speak of their fears and worries, but there was no need to. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking and now that Lucy was gone, there was no use denying it. There would be no way for him to return to London and the was no way that he could be with either of them again.

As she caressed his face with all the tenderness and love that she felt for him and he eagerly accepted the gestures, both of them gradually felt somewhat better, finding some sort of peace in the utter chaos around them.

"Promise me to take care of yourself, Nellie," he said at length, his voice still hoarse.

"I will," she said weakly, both grateful and shocked that he basically made her swear to move on, even during the moment that he was the one who was truly losing everything.

"And you..."

But there was nothing that she could say, nothing that she could add to the encouragements that were spoken to him already by his wife. She shared all of Lucy's feelings regarding Benjamin Barker and the barber knew this now.

"I'll think of you," she said eventually, "every single day, for the rest of my life."

He squeezed her hands and new tears were forming behind her eyelids as she realized that this was one of the many gestures that she was going to miss terribly, but she blinked the tears away. She would have the rest of her life to cry for Benjamin; all she could do now was savor those last moments that she could still touch him and talk to him.

"I'll never forget you," he whispered, and the words were almost as good as a declaration of love.

With a clear effort, he managed to get into a sitting position and leaned towards her. She blinked with surprise and only when his lips brushed against her forehead, she realized what he was doing. Nellie trembled and held tightly on to the bars that only just allowed this unexpected caress.

After a few seconds the barber's body fell back onto the floor, the mere movement towards her being too much for his abused body. She reached for his hands again and she had never felt as connected to anyone as when his and hers entwined once more.

Even though she knew that it was a complete inappropriate moment, she just _had_ to tell him personally how she felt about him. She needed to say the words that she had been dying to say to him for so long now, at this moment when all hope was lost. This was the last chance she would ever get and if she didn't do it now, she knew that she would regret it for the rest of her life.

"I love you," she whispered to him, hoping that it wouldn't upset him even more. For her, it was a huge relief to have told him directly what she felt for him at last.

The three words hung heavily between them for a long moment, but then he tightened his grasp around her hands and gave another gentle squeeze.

"I know," he said, sighing sadly. "I truly had no idea at first; I was so shocked when Lucy told me."

Nellie shuddered as she remembered how distantly he had behaved when he had asked her whether she indeed loved him and when he had told her that she was like a sister to him.

"I'm sorry for that day," he said, clearly sensing once more what she was thinking of. "I thought that I was making it easier for both of us. But I've had a lot of time to think while he was here and I realized that what I did was wrong."

"It doesn't matter, I..."

But Benjamin hushed her and Nellie realized that this was not a good moment for this particular conversation – and that there would never be one.

"Stay with me for a bit longer," he asked quietly, his voice nothing but a harsh and exhausted whisper now.

He didn't have to ask that and they both knew it, but the words were another confirmation of his acceptance and she greatly appreciated them.

She wanted this moment to be as pleasant as the circumstances could possibly allow, so he had something to remind her by even when his days would grow truly dark. Nellie moved her arms through the bars, moving one beneath Benjamin's head to make his position somewhat more comfortable, and the other one found his hand once more.

The baker rested her head against the bars, watching the barber through tear-clouded eyes. Benjamin held her gaze and sighed, both knowing that this truly was the end.

Eventually, guards would find them and drag her back into the world of the living, and him into the world of the dead. But for now, the barber and the baker were together for one last time.


	16. Introduction 2

**_Part 2: Sweeney Todd & Nellie Lovett_**

Introduction

"Do you remember anything from the old days? From before you... went away?"

It took Sweeney Todd a long moment to realize that someone was speaking to him. Attempting to retreat from the darkness of his mind for a moment, he looked at the woman who was sitting in front of him, her huge brown eyes focused on him.

It was cruelly ironic that she, a woman who meant nothing to him, was still here but that the woman who he loved had died many years ago. It had taken him a long moment to recognize her when he had stepped into her shop for the very first time since fifteen years earlier that day. All those years, he had thought of only two persons: his wife and his daughter.

This woman was neither of them and he wondered why she took such an interest in him; it was a mystery to him why she bothered to help him and give him the information he wanted, no matter how horrible it was. And as if that wasn't strange enough yet, she had almost immediately allowed him to go back into the room where he used to live with his family.

During his banishment he had forgotten about things as kindness and compassion, but with his return some vague memories of the gentleness he once had known thanks to his family had re-surfaced. He knew too well however that the way Mrs. Lovett treated him wasn't normal, not even for the relative civility of London.

The baker stood up as the silence lasted, only to sit down on her knees in front of him, resting her hands on the armrest of his chair. It was obvious that this wasn't what she wanted to touch, but he was unaware of it.

She moved closer to him, until her face was only a feet away from his, and he, the dark barber who both guards and fellow prisoners had feared, found himself moving away from her, not wanting to be so close to any woman except for his Lucy. If he hadn't been depraved from normal human contact, he would've been aware of the sadness and hope in her eyes.

Mr. Todd wished that his landlady would just leave him alone. Only hours ago he had found out about the tragic fate of his Lucy and Johanna; how could this woman even think that he was possibly interested in anything she had to say? He wanted to be alone, to remember, to forget, and most of all, to think of something to avenge his family.

He had come home, or what was left of it, hoping to find his family waiting for him. His wife and child had been taken away from him however and even though this news was more difficult to process than surviving his banishment, this didn't mean that his life was useless now. No – he could only rest when the ones who were responsible for the destruction of his family would have paid for it in the most horrible way he could imagine.

"I remember everything," he replied slowly, forcing himself to answer the woman's question, just so she could leave him alone at last. The tone of his voice made very clear that he wanted her to end the conversation, but even if Mrs. Lovett was aware of this, she didn't acknowledge it.

"You do?" she asked.

He heard happiness and relief in her voice, but even though he didn't understand this at all he didn't even attempt to make sense of it, or to ask her why his answer pleased her so much.

"Of course," he muttered, wondering why the woman just didn't shut up.

"So you remember all the things we did together?" she asked, leaning even closer to him.

"We never did any 'things' together," he replied, fully focusing his attention on her for the first time that evening. What on earth was she talking about? He could hardly remember her, couldn't think of one moment that he had even talked to her. The time that Lucy and he had spent together, whether it was just the two of them or with Johanna, were saved securely in his mind however. He had made sure of that during the past one and a half decade. He didn't remember anything about their landlady however, which made perfect sense because she had never been more than just that – a landlady.

It seemed that he wasn't the only one who had suffered during those years. He had to admit that he had more and more trouble recalling the limited time that he had been able to spent with Lucy and Johanna. But the memories of this woman were at least just as lacking as his own, for she was speaking of things that had never happened. If it hadn't been for his lost ability of feeling compassion, he would've felt sorry for the baker.

"So you don't..."

Her speech faltered however when she saw the dangerous look in his eyes. The arms that had been on the chair did move to his knees now, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his trousers as if she could somehow bring the not existing memories back that way.

Disgusted, Mr. Todd stood up as quickly as he could, ending the physical contact abruptly. This time he did vaguely see the look of hurt on her face, but he purposefully chose to ignore it.

"The books, ice skating, dancing, the cookies, all those times we talked together, comforted each other... our last visit in prison... don't you remember it at all?"

The barber's body trembled with rage as the woman kept insisting. Even if he still would've been capable of feeling pity, she would've angered him either way. How _dared_ she say things like that, things that weren't true at all?

"Those things never happened," he grunted through clenched teeth, forcing himself to stay calm – the more he kept in control, the sooner he'd think of a way to free himself from the presence of the insufferable woman.

He couldn't help but wonder however where on earth she could've gotten the impression that she had ever been more to him than a mere landlady. He had shared all his thoughts and time with Lucy, his dear wife – how could Mrs. Lovett even suggest that it had been otherwise?

"You've truly forgotten, haven't you?" she whispered.

She tried to meet his gaze but he looked away, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her presence.

"Do you remember _anything_ that isn't about Lucy or Johanna?"

"There isn't anything else worth remembering," he replied dully, trying to make his lost family appear in his mind's eye.

The barber stepped even further away from her, wanting to free himself from the woman's presence. If only she hadn't had the nerve to approach him like this in his own room, he just could've walked away from her. But now he had nowhere else to go, and was forced to wait until she had left him alone at last.

As he turned his back to her, he pretended not to see the tears that were welling in her eyes.

Somewhere in the background he heard her voice, pleading him to remember things that had never happened, but as the seconds turned into minutes and she didn't cease to speak, the sound of her voice was replaced in his mind by images of his stolen family and plans to make the ones who had taken them from him pay.

Even as she was still talking to him, he managed to forget about the woman who had interrupted his brooding in the first place.


	17. Gift 2

Gift

"What is this supposed to mean?" Mr. Todd snarled as his landlady didn't only place a cup of soup on the small table in his tonsorial parlor, but another item as well. He didn't even bother to look at it, just wanting it to be gone because he didn't like anything that she randomly placed in his room, whatever it was.

"It's a gift," Mrs. Lovett said, not looking him in the eyes.

"A gift," he echoed dully, as if he didn't understand that there was anyone who liked him enough to give him something nice.

"Yes," she said, but he hardly heard the word, let alone the many emotions in her voice that were not particularly well hidden.

"What for?" The suspicion in his voice was clear now.

"I don't need a reason to give you something, or do I?"

He didn't even bother to reply.

She just shrugged and, apparently somehow sensing that he couldn't tolerate her presence for much longer, the baker left the tonsorial parlor without saying one more word.

Sweeney's attempt not to look at whatever it was that she had given him lasted for about half an hour. Then, curiosity got the better of him. Grunting in annoyance, he approached the table to look at whatever junk she had given him, if only so he could throw it away immediately.

The object was a small one and for a moment he didn't understand what it was, but then he realized that it was a holder for a small candle. It was made out of glass and, even though the item was smooth when he ran a curious finger along the surface, looked as if it was made of countless pieces of broken glass.

The bleak daylight that reached the barber shop was reflected in it in an almost magical way and it seemed to Mr. Todd as if he was staring at the captivating metal of one of his beloved razors instead of some useless thing that Mrs. Lovett had given him.

As he looked at it intensely, he had the strange feeling that the object was familiar, that he had seen it before. He couldn't remember such a thing however, but he was somehow sure that he had looked at a very similar item before.

Studying the candle holder with even more care, he somehow had the feeling that it was used very often in the past. This was a strange thing, for there wasn't a single sign of wax or smoke against the flawless glass. If there ever had been evidence of previous use, it had been very neatly removed by someone – and something told him that this person could only be Mrs. Lovett.

Quite some time later, his soup having gone cold a long while ago, the barber was still looking at the candle holder. It was almost dark in his room now and his suspicion that the thing would look even more beautiful when there was an actual candle burning inside it, grew larger with every dying beam of daylight.

Making up his mind as he carefully placed the item back on the table, he decided to ask Mrs. Lovett for a candle during the next time that she would come up to his room. If she wouldn't be talking and hovering too much, he might thank her for giving him something so beautiful. And maybe he would even once ask her if it was possible that he had seen the candle holder once before.


	18. Reassurance 2

Reassurance

Sweeney Todd pretended not to notice her, but he kept a close eye on Mrs. Lovett when she kneeled down on the floor next to the barber chair that he was sitting in. She didn't touch him, but he sensed that she wanted to, and this made him more than suspicious. He had made it quite clear to her several times already that he didn't want her to come close to her.

Although she respected this wish for the time being, there was another urge of her that she always seemed to give in to. No matter how often he had warned her, she _did _talk whenever it suited her and he sensed that this was not going to be an exception.

"Mr. Todd," she said quietly.

He refused to look at her, not wanting to encourage her, but she did have his attention. There was something in her voice that made him feel that she wasn't beginning another pointless conversations about nothing in particular.

"I want to tell you that..."

She tried to meet his gaze, as if that could make things easier, but he stubbornly kept looking the other way.

"I want you to now..."

Again, her speech faltered. It was strange for Mrs. Lovett to be at a loss for words, but there was an urgency in her voice that captivated him.

"I don't know what you have gone through all these years," she said at length, taking a deep breath. "And I don't need to know. But if you ever want to talk about that – or anything else - I'll be there."

Her voice grew more confident and Sweeney found himself listening to her intently, feeling relief, surprise and something else, something he couldn't name.

"You're back, and that's what's most important," she continued, "I'm very glad that you are here."

It became impossible for him to pretend that he wasn't aware of her and he turned his head towards her, his eyes focused on her. She swallowed visibly, as if his mere gaze made her throat go dry.

"Thank you," he said, and although those two words were ones that might be spoken easily by any other man, they contained all the gratitude he still could feel.

She smiled lightly, which made her look strangely different, and he wondered for a moment how it was possible that two words could have such an influence on her.

The baker placed her hand on his knee, as if sensing how she had enchanted him with that one smile. He tensed, overwhelmed by the gesture. Not because he had warned her not to touch him, especially not in a way like _that_, but because the contact wasn't as awful as he had expected _at all_.

Even as she gently caressed his skin through the thick fabric of his trousers, he didn't stop her. The gesture was strangely enjoyable and he wanted her to know that, not wanting her to be afraid of being hurt by him this time.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, he placed his own hand on hers, entwining their fingers. The smile that this caused on her face was the most radiant thing he had seen for a long time, but all he was aware of was the gentle union of their hands.

For the first time since many years, Mr. Todd knew that he wasn't as alone in the world as he had thought and that realization was a very pleasant one.


	19. Books 2

Books

Sweeney Todd noticed the object when his last victim of the day slid into the bakehouse. Clenching his blood covered fists as the customer's body hit the floor, the barber wondered whether Mrs. Lovett was making a habit of leaving junk in his barber shop these days and why she had left an item that wasn't his in his room _this _time.

The previous object she had given him however was one he had grown to appreciate quite a lot. And thus he made his way to the other item that didn't seem to belong to him as soon as he had carefully washed and dried his hands.

As he stood in front of the table where Mrs. Lovett had placed the item, he saw that it was a book. The cover didn't look familiar to him, but when he picked it up and opened it, making sure not to damage it in any way, it turned out that apparently the book had once been his after all.

In the right corner of the first page a few words were written: _to Benjamin, from Nellie_. He recognized the writing as the one that belonged to his landlady.

He turned the book around, examining the cover in the hope of attempting to remember this book, trying to be sure that he really had owned this once and that Mrs. Lovett had given it to him long ago.

Sweeney couldn't remember the book at all however, nor could he think of any reason why the baker would've given him something like this so many years ago. The short summary of the book printed on its cover was meaningless to him; he didn't remember reading adventure novels, let alone ones that he had received from his landlady. The date of print on the back of the book made clear however that the book was indeed older than sixteen years; technically she could've given it to him all those years ago.

He should've forgotten about the book – throw it after his customer's dead body, if necessary – but a usually suppressed part of him was curious. The day was coming to an end and there would be no more customers until the following morning. There would be nothing but his own thoughts to distract them, and for once he would like his mind to be focused on something that didn't remind him of the life he had lost.

Telling himself that the story wasn't worth reading anyway and that he might as well give it a try because he doubtlessly would lose interest before even reaching the end of the first page, the barber sat down on his small bed and began to read.

After he had read only a few paragraphs, Sweeney Todd was fascinated by the story. It wasn't as silly as he had expected it to be at all and although he knew from experience that the main characters were too gentle and undetermined to be actually able to survive their adventures and that the crazy developments they got caught up in wouldn't ever happen in the real world, he found himself enjoying the story to the extent that he even forgot about the perils he had gone through himself during his quest to return to London.

He devoured one chapter after the other and although the story never seemed familiar to him, he couldn't help but feel that he had once read the novel before after all.

A few hours later, he sighed as he finished reading the very last page of the book. He was genuinely disappointed that there was nothing more to read. The oblivion that the fictional story had offered him was unlike anything he knew; even during the few restless hours that he managed to sleep he was more aware of his own past than when he had been reading the book.

He was surrounded by darkness now, but he hadn't noticed that night was falling. If it hadn't been for the moonlight that made its way into his room through the large window, he wouldn't have been able anymore to read at all, but the transition from the daylight to the light of the white planet had gone by unnoticed as well.

He leant back against the wall behind his bed, savoring the feeling of peacefulness that the story had evoked within him, as if its happy ending somehow made his life a bit more bearable.

Even though he had expected to detest the story, the barber was actually missing reading the story now.

On the last page of the book however was a short reference that wasn't part of the actual story. It was information about another story by the same author, which was in fact a sequel to the one that Sweeney had just read.

The title was somewhat familiar and for the shortest moment, the barber knew with certainty that he had read it before. But the recognition faded before he could actually remember the book, leaving the barber with the desire to read the novel that the one he was currently holding referred to.

The problem however was of course that he didn't have the book and had no idea where he could get the novel that had doubtlessly been out of print for years.

He idly flipped the pages through his slightly calloused fingers, savoring the feeling of the fragile paper against his fingertip. Because of this the book fell open on its very first page, where both the fading ink of the publisher's equipment and his landlady's pen could be seen.

Perhaps the book he was looking for wasn't as unavailable as he had feared after all.

Holding the novel he had just read tightly, Mr. Todd made his way downstairs into the part of the building where Mrs. Lovett's worked and lived. The baker wasn't in the pie shop or in the parlor, but this didn't surprise Sweeney. Just like him, she had closed her shop for the day a few hours ago and now she was doubtlessly in the bakehouse to get rid of his latest victims.

Toby was cleaning in the pie shop and didn't pay attention to the barber when he entered Mrs. Lovett's parlor. Sweeney was grateful for this; he wouldn't have liked to justify himself towards the boy, if only because the barber himself didn't really know what he was doing there. The reason that he was there to look for the baker's books sounded strange, even in his own mind.

Mr. Todd quickly moved into the parlor, closing the door behind him. He wanted to find the book – if there even was one – as soon as he could, so he could return to his own room before the baker came back to her parlor. It was not that he thought that she would mind if she saw him borrowing one of her books – if anything, he sensed that she would simply be pleased – but he didn't want her to know what he was doing, hoping that this would prevent her from becoming even more interested in him. Her attention was something he wasn't comfortable with, even though it seemed now that she actually had been more important to him than he had initially thought.

The barber felt rather guilty for going through his landlady's possessions like he was currently doing, but before he could change his mind, his eyes fell on a cabinet in the corner of the room. Dozens of books were stored inside it and Sweeney moved towards them so he could study the backs of the novels.

Soon he found one that was written by the same author as the one that he had just read. He took it from the shelf, wanting to make sure that this was indeed a story worth reading. He didn't want to return later when Mrs. Lovett was probably there, having to find a novel that was actually to his liking.

When he turned to the first page, he found a message that was similar to the one that was written in the novel that he had just read. The few words that were seen in the new book suggested however that this was a gift from him to Mrs. Lovett, instead of the other way around.

Not wanting to think of the implications of this, the barber skipped the foreword and quickly read the first paragraphs of the actual story to make sure that this novel was as good as the one he had just read.

Before he had fully read the first page however, he was completely caught up in the story already, losing himself in a world of make-believe for the second time that night.

Eyes almost glued to the pages, his body settled itself in the nearest chair without the barber being really aware of this. Time ceased once again to exist as he temporarily surrendered himself to events that had nothing to do with his own life.

"That one used to be your favorite."

Mr. Todd's face snapped up when he heard the familiar voice, only then realizing that he had read more than half of the book already, even though he had intended to stay in the baker's parlor as shortly as possible.

He looked around quickly, hoping to find a way of escape, but there was none now that Mrs. Lovett had seen him already – reading in one of their books, of all things.

"I..."

He tried to think of a proper excuse, a way to defend himself, but it wasn't necessary. Mrs. Lovett simply smiled, apparently not surprised at all, and there was something about that particular expression that calmed him.

"I found a book in my room," he said, the simple truth finding its way out of his mouth before he had actually given his lips and tongue permission to speak. "I read it and once I had finished it, I wanted to read more. I presumed that you possessed more of those books, so I came here to look for them."

Although he hadn't intended to give her the real but rather embarrassing explanation for his presence in her living room, he found that it wasn't that bad to do so at all.

"I had hoped you would still enjoy the story," she replied. "You used to love it, you read it countless times – both of us did. I hoped that you're still able to forget about yourself for a while when reading those books, that's why I left the first part at a place where I knew you'd find it."

Sweeney should feel betrayed or at least offended to hear how she had tricked him into reading the story, but he could feel nothing but gratitude.

"I'm glad that you saved those books for me," Sweeney said before he could prevent himself from doing so as it dawned on him that it wasn't just her own books that Mrs. Lovett had stored all this time.

"It was the least I could do," the baker replied.

Mr. Todd didn't understand this but before he could consider her cryptic words, Mrs. Lovett slowly sat down next to him, as if giving him the chance to stop her.

"I love that one," she said when she had settled herself against him, pointing at the book that he had read earlier that night and that he had placed next to him once he had started with the current one.

She picked it up, smiling lightly because of the old memories that the item seemed to provoke. It was obvious that she was fond of the book, but she moved to put it back, as if the novel didn't belong to her.

"You can read it if you want to," Sweeney said, "you saved it all this time, it's more yours than mine as far as I'm concerned."

Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth as if to disagree with this, but then she smiled again and picked up the book once more, opening it this time.

After casting one more sideways glance at him she began to read and soon she seemed to have forgotten that he was there. Feeling at ease with this, Mr. Todd returned to the story that he had been reading before his landlady had interrupted him.

Before only one minute had passed, the barber and baker were both lost in the world that both stories described, although Sweeney still vaguely realized that Mrs. Lovett's presence was a lot easier to endure when she was actually quiet and wasn't fussing over him or chattering to him all the time.

Time flew by and if he hadn't been so engrossed in the story, Sweeney Todd would've realized that the hours that he spent reading with Mrs. Lovett were by far the best and only pleasant ones that he had known for a very long time.

When it was past midnight and the baker fell asleep, Mr. Todd carefully took the book from her relaxing hands. Not needing much sleep himself, he continued reading, not wanting to wake his landlady now that she was resting in a relatively comfortable manner after a long day of work.

After a while she shifted in her sleep and because of this her body slumped against his own. Horrified and bewildered, the barber sat perfectly still, the story forgotten for a moment. But when she didn't move again and he ensured himself that she was still sleeping and thus wasn't aware of what was happening, he let her stay in the way her body had moved, even though she was leaning heavily against him and her head was resting on his shoulder.

Before he continued to read once more, it dawned on Sweeney that this wasn't the life that he had hoped for in vain for such a long time, that real life wasn't a novel with a happy ending. But for one evening, reality might be almost good enough.


	20. Waiting 2

Waiting

Even though he didn't require the baker to do something and he didn't need to tell her something important, Sweeney Todd found himself pacing in Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. The woman had left hours ago without telling him where she was going and even though it was past midnight now, she hadn't returned yet.

He wasn't sure which bothered him more: the fact that she had disappeared without informing him or that he was actually concerned about her. Without her and her practicability he would be nowhere and he knew that very well. There was another reason that he didn't like not knowing where she was, but he suppressed this – it was already bad enough to admit to himself that he would be indeed rather helpless without her.

When he heard a key being inserted in the lock of the door to the pie shop, he spun around and stood near the entrance the moment that Mrs. Lovett entered the room.

"Mr. T!" she cried, smiling widely in spite of the thunderous expression on his face.

Not satisfied by her reaction, he stepped closer to her, wanting her to know that he was annoyed and angry with her because of her disappearance earlier that day.

"Where were you?" he demanded, wondering why she looked so bloody cheerful, even more so than usual.

"I visited an old friend," she said, and by the slight tug of the right corner of her lip he could tell that she gave him a useless answer on purpose.

She was unimpressed however by the scowl that darkened his face, even though he knew very well that any other person would be intimidated if not terrified because of it.

Instead, she just walked past him without even looking at him as she headed for the parlor. This too was strange; usually she never ignored him, no matter what he tried to avoid it.

"Why?" he asked, grasping her arm before the insufferable woman could get away from him.

"I don't believe I need to tell you why or when I go out and meet people," was all she said, trying to remove her arm from his iron grip. In spite of his behavior, which was even more unpleasant than he usually acted towards her, the woman was still smiling. Even the demon barber himself realized that this was strange.

"Are you _drunk_?"

The question caught both of them off guard, as if they both couldn't believe that he had actually showed such a particular interest of her current situation.

"No," she said, after a moment of hesitation.

"Then why do you act like _this_?"

"I'm just happy," she simply replied. "I had a very pleasant evening and I don't want it to be ruined. So if you'd excuse me..."

"That friend of yours, is that a man or a woman?"

The idea that she had been elsewhere to amuse herself was for some reason bad enough already, but if there was a _man_ who made her so happy, it would be even worse than he thought. He didn't know why exactly, but he really didn't like the idea of her spending so much time with a man who obviously had a huge influence on her.

"It isn't a man but even if it were, I don't see why it's any of your concern."

Mr. Todd didn't know either, but still, he couldn't help but wonder why she looked so much more genuinely cheerful now that she hadn't been home for quite a few hours.

Only then the barber realized that he was still holding her arm. He let go quickly, the shock that he had lowered himself to physically limiting her freedom in her own home overwhelming his unexplainable curiosity for a moment.

"Mr. T," she asked quietly, suddenly aware of his unusual behavior, "are you alright?"

"Yes," he muttered, wishing now that the woman could leave him alone so he could forget about her and her contended smile as quickly as possible. Only when he had ruined her good mood already, it was clear to him that he shouldn't have done so and should've left her alone in the first place.

As if sensing his thoughts, she gently guided him into her parlor and made him sit down on a couch. Not wanting and even not having the will to do otherwise, he just allowed her to do so.

"I didn't know you even noticed that I was gone," she said quietly. "If I would've known, I would've told you – I wouldn't have left at all. It's just that I didn't think you'd actually care whether I was here or not, as long as my work in the bakehouse was done."

"Don't be ridiculous," he found himself mumbling, "it's your right to amuse yourself elsewhere."

"I won't leave anymore without telling you," she said, resting her hand on his arm for a moment; the gesture was strangely calming. "I certainly would enjoy just being here with you. But I know that you prefer to be alone."

Until not too long ago, he wouldn't even bother to say that was totally right, but now he wasn't so certain about it anymore, didn't know for sure whether he truly preferred solitude over her company.

Perhaps it would be pleasant after all to spend more time with the woman who he shared a house with, who was the only one who knew his secrets. She wouldn't be able to make him feel as well as she seemed to be feeling now herself, but it might be a good thing to get to know her a little better.

She looked at him with eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul, as if she already knew what his answer was even before he had said it. As her hand lingered on his arm even when their gazes were locked, the barber realized that actually getting to know Mrs. Lovett wouldn't be a bad thing at all.


	21. Ice 2

Ice

"The Thames is frozen."

Mr. Todd was only vaguely aware of the baker's voice and preferred to keep an eye on the people walking in the now snowy white Fleet Street.

"Toby and I are going to ice skate."

Sweeney hardly heard what his landlady was saying, focusing instead on the man heading for the stairs to his tonsorial parlor.

"I'd really like you to join us."

He hadn't reacted, only noticing that the auburn haired woman was gone when the man he had been watching didn't come to his tonsorial parlor after all.

Sweeney shook his head, wondering when Mrs. Lovett had spoken to him and whether she had done so after all, becoming slowly aware again of his actual surroundings.

To his bewilderment, there was a pair of ice skates on his barber chair, as if it was only normal to place such items at that particular location.

Even from his position near the window, he could see that the ice skates were brand new and for a moment he wondered why on earth Mrs. Lovett had bothered to buy them for him – both of them knew that he wasn't going to use them anyway.

After staring at the bizarre sight for a moment, he removed the pair of ice skates from the chair and placed them in a corner of his room where customers wouldn't be able to see them. It was not that he had had any customer that day yet or that it was likely that he would get any due to the wintry weather, but one could always hope that there were at least _some_ men who hadn't given up their usual routine in favor of enjoying the snow and ice that made it impossible for them to do their actual work.

After an hour had passed, his tonsorial parlor was still as empty and clean as it had been all day, and instead of looking at the people in the street, he found himself casting glances at the partly hidden ice skates more and more frequently.

Sweeney didn't know why Mrs. Lovett had thought that he would join her, but as time passed the idea didn't seemed so strange anymore. Going out to skate on the ice, even though Mrs. Lovett and Toby would be there too - just like a whole lot of other people – suddenly seemed in fact rather appealing.

Admitting to himself at last that no one was going to come to his barber shop anyway, the barber took his coat and, as in an afterthought, grabbed the ice skates when he headed outside.

Half an hour later, Sweeney arrived at the riverside. There were a lot of people, just like he had feared, enjoying a rare late afternoon of relaxation. Mrs. Lovett however was easy to be found among the crowd. He could recognize the flash of auburn hair anywhere and her cheerful voice could be heard even from his relatively distant position.

In spite of himself, the barber couldn't suppress the feeling of amusement that rose within him as he saw the baker attempting to teach the young boy to remain standing on the ice with the skates beneath his feet for longer than a few seconds.

He was overwhelmbed by the desire to stand there with his own wife and child instead of those individuals, who were now the closest thing to a family that he had, but he fought to ignore the feeling. Wishful thinking didn't change anything, except for making things worse. It was a lesson that he had learned the hard way during the past years.

As he watched the people entertaining themselves on the ice, he was somewhat reminded of a similar moment that had taken place long ago. The memory was too vague to be recognizable, but it filled him with peacefulness nonetheless.

Trying to recall the pleasant memory, the barber became more and more aware of the ice skates that he was still holding.

After suppressing the urge for several minutes, Sweeney shook his head and sighed, surrendering at last.

It was just ridiculous, but even he knew that there would be no harm in it. Promising himself that he would go on the ice for just a few minutes and that he would stay away from the other people and especially Mrs. Lovett as much as he could, he moved onto the ice and bound the skates beneath his feet.

The first slides on the frozen water were much more difficult than he had thought, but Mr. Todd was a very determined man. He forced himself to move forward, even as he struggled not to fall.

He was gradually getting the hang of it again. It was actually rather enjoyable to move over the ice, the wind blowing in his hair and plenty of fresh air around him to breathe in. It was completely unlike anything he had known for a long time and it was a relief to experience the current solitary and quietness. There was also the strange pleasantness of the innocent activity, of the way his body moved even as his mind wandered. He was very grateful now that Mrs. Lovett had given him the ice skates and he reminded himself to thank her once both of them were home again.

It became easier to move on the ice as time passed and his body re-learned the movements it hadn't needed for more than fifteen years. The cruel world that lay beyond the frozen water faded to the background.

As he moved further away from the other people, a strange and no longer familiar feeling of joy overwhelmed him. For a reason that wasn't clear to him, it suddenly seemed like a very good thing to close his eyes and spread his arms, as if he could reclaim some of the freedom he had lost that way.

It almost felt like he was flying and after a moment, the memory that he had somewhat recalled earlier returned with full clarity.

Mr. Todd had forgotten how much he liked to ice skate in the old days, but Mrs. Lovett hadn't. In fact, it didn't seem so strange now at all that she had asked him to join her here; there _had _been a time that they used to skate together but only now that he had returned to this place he could recall it.

Long lost feelings of security and friendship returned and even though it was the baker who had caused those feelings in the past instead of his actual family, he eagerly embraced the memory, trying to remember as much of those past moments as he possibly could.

The memory was so real that he thought for a moment that the fingers that brushed against his own in a comforting way were part of the past as well. Only when a warm hand tried to find its way into his own, he realized that this was actually happening.

His eyes snapped open and when he looked around, he saw that Mrs. Lovett was ice skating next to him and that she was indeed the one who was holding his hand. Her eyes were filled with hope and affection and somehow this reminded him of the past, but this was not what bothered him.

Sweeney was horrified because of the completely inappropriate gesture of his landlady and wanted to pull his hand out of the baker's grasp. Before he did so however, it dawned on him that this was probably the only way to thank her properly for her friendship and support. She deserved to receive his gratitude because of all what she had done for him during the years.

Mrs. Lovett wanted to continue the friendship that once had been between them and although this had seemed totally irrelevant for months, he realized now that accepting her into his life was for both of them the only right thing to do.

The two of them were almost standing still, too caught up in the unexpected development to think of ice skating. But as he she carefully began to gain speed again, he followed her, capturing her hand firmly in his own.


	22. Dance 2

Dance

Mr. Todd stared at the chute that the body had fallen through seconds ago, unable to fully comprehend yet what just had happened. But as time passed and the blood began to dry, it dawned on the barber what he had done. Euphoria overtook him when the events of the past few minutes replayed in his mind, as he recalled the details of the unexpected developments.

Sweeney had been fully focused on his desire to punish the Judge and the Beadle, the men who had played the main part in the destruction of his family. He had been vaguely aware that there had been others, policemen who knew that he was innocent and had arrested him anyway, but the knowledge of this was nothing compared to his hatred for Turpin, the man who had planned and ordered it all, and Bamford, his main puppet.

Even though the memory of this particular man hadn't kept Sweeney awake night after night, year after year, the barber had recognized him instantly when he had entered the tonsorial parlor. He didn't look anymore at all like the young and arrogant policemen that was one of the three that had arrested Benjamin Barker all those years ago, but a feeling of hatred had welled inside him that was unlike anything he had known before and even took the barber himself by surprise.

Mr. Todd found it somewhat difficult to recall the actual kill, only that it had been more violent and gruesome than any of his previous murders. But the more the man bled, the better Sweeney felt and the barber had welcomed the temporary relief. He knew from experience that the feeling of power and comfort would disappear soon, no matter how strong it was, but he was grateful for each minute that went by without the despair that usually tormented him.

Adrenaline running through his body, Sweeney closed his eyes, trying so savor the feeling of triumph that the policeman's murder had caused.

The moment was interrupted however by the door of his parlor that was thrown open mere seconds after he had closed his eyes.

Shocked, Sweeney tightened the grasp around the blood-covered razor he was still holding, knowing that he had to kill the person who was unfortunate enough to ignore the 'closed' sign on the door to his barber shop.

As he spun around to face the person who had entered the tonsorial parlor, he didn't find a horrified customer, but none other than Mrs. Lovett. The baker simply raised an eyebrow as she took in the unusual amount of blood and gore on the floor.

Practical as always, she locked the door behind her and closed the curtain, making sure that no one else would accidentally see the evidence of the murder that the demon barber had just committed.

Mr. Todd wasn't thinking of those things however at that moment. His dark eyes were focused on his landlady, seeing how she headed for the cleaning materials that were discreetly placed in a far corner of the tonsorial parlor, even though both of them knew very well that she had her own shop to run and would probably need this time to recover from the hectic lunch rush and prepare for the throngs of customers that would doubtlessly come to her shop for their evening meals.

He didn't know what made him do it. Perhaps it was because of the gratitude he felt when he witnessed another proof of her dedication to him, or maybe there was still a part of humanity in him left that recognized that he wanted to share this special moment with the woman who had made it possible for him to take his vengeance in the first place.

Before he knew it, his arms were wrapped around the baker, pulling her in a spontaneous dance. There was no music but the frantic beating of his heart and a melody that he was humming, one that wasn't much unlike that moment a few months ago, when he had just returned to London and Mrs. Lovett had come up with their ingenious scheme.

Just like then they waltzed madly through the suddenly small room and if the baker was surprised by the unexpected turn of events, she didn't show this.

But even if she had, Sweeney wouldn't have been aware of it. He hardly noticed what he was doing, didn't see that his blood-covered hands were staining his landlady's dress, wasn't aware of the look of both delight and shock on the auburn haired woman's face, failed to see that both their pair of shoes were ruined by the puddles of undried blood that he guided her through.

He was more aware than ever of the rush of excitement in his own blood, even as his right hand was squeezing the baker's in his own and his left one was wrapped tightly around her waist.

Only after a minute or two, when the rush wore off and the adrenaline running through his veins decreased to such an extent that he could breath again, he realized what he had done.

Horrified, he let go off Mrs. Lovett, eyes widening somewhat in shock as he beheld the consequences that his actions had had on her clothing.

Before he could even open his mouth to apologize however, she was already at his side again, one hand resting lightly on his arm, sensing his distress as much as he did himself. The touch would've annoyed him until not too long ago, offended him even, but now he was only grateful for the acceptance and comfort.

"What happened?"

Her voice was quiet and understanding, even though she didn't know yet what had happened. There had been times that he would've been bothered by her tendency to be like this, but now he could only be relieved to have her at his side.

The only thing he was vaguely afraid of now was that she'd be terrified by what he had done, by the man he had become, but at the same time he knew very well that Mrs. Lovett was the only one who both knew and accepted the man he had turned into.

As he told her what happened, the look on the baker's face mirrored the emotions that he had felt himself so recently: the excitement of recognizing the policeman, the pure euphoria of killing one of the men who had been responsible for his cruel fate, the sadness of knowing that it wouldn't be enough.

It made him feel actually bad about what he just had done, but the baker just shook her head as he looked at her red-stained dress, as if she didn't mind seeing the prints of his hands in blood on the expensive fabric of her new dress.

"It would've become like this anyway," she said, gesturing at the blood that covered almost every yard of the barber shop.

The knowledge that _she _was the one who was going to clean all of this hit him almost just as hard as the realization what he just had done to her did. It took him a moment to realize the emotion, but it was not that he had expected that he still could feel guilty after all what had happened.

"Just... just leave it," he said, not wanting her to have to deal with his madness any longer. "I'll clean it up myself."

Seeing once again the now ruined dress, he took off his own jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

"No one will see the blood this way if you get back downstairs. There's nothing I can do about your shoes, but I don't think that anyone will notice."

"Don't be silly," she replied, carefully taking the jacket off her shoulders, fingertips caressing its thick fabric as she placed it on his bed.

"Together then," he said, wondering once again how the woman could possibly still be willing to help him after all this.

Without saying a word, she took up the tools she had intended to pick up when he had pulled her into the demonic dance. This time he followed her again, but now he took one of the buckets from her hands.

Mrs. Lovett didn't acknowledge his action and just kneeled down on the floor, beginning to scrub the blood of a particularly soaked part of the floor. Sweeney hastily followed her example.

They worked in silence, cleaning inch after inch of wood. It was getting dark in the shop and it became hard to see what they were doing. Mr. Todd didn't dare thinking of what was happening now in the pie shop, that the baker should be there to take care of her own business. She was doubtlessly aware of this herself but she never mentioned it.

Mrs. Lovett glanced at him a few moments though, as if expecting him to force her go downstairs to sell the evidence of his crimes. He was aware of the fact that those pies had to be sold at one point, but for now he was just very happy to have her so close to him, to be reminded of the fact that he wasn't all alone just yet.

Sweeney had no idea how much time had passed when the tonsorial parlor was decently looking again; all he knew was that he had an awfully stiff back and sore limbs after all the cleaning work. Mrs. Lovett was probably hurting more than he did – she may be a tough and strong woman, but she wasn't used to the exhausting corporal labor he had been forced to perform for fifteen years.

It was something he was very grateful for, for the woman deserved such things even less than he did, but he didn't want her to be in pain because of the mess he created.

As he was trying to think of a way to properly thank her for being there for him like that once again, he was distracted by the distant sound of something coming from the room beneath his own.

"What's that sound?"

"It's Toby," the baker said after a moment of close listening, a smile appearing on her face when she seemed to recognize the song. "I was teaching him how to play the piano. I think he's practicing now that his work for today is done."

"It sounds... familiar," Sweeney found himself saying after listening to the song for a few moments. There was something about the slow but cheerful tones that remembered him of something that had happened long ago.

"We used to dance to this," she said, recalling a memory that was lost to him.

He didn't know whether it was true; a part of him couldn't imagine that the baker and he had been such good friends that they actually _danced _together when both of them were married.

As he continued listening however, there were moments of recognition, seconds that he could predict the next few notes, even though he didn't truly know the song any longer.

"Just like this," she said quietly, seeing the look in his eyes.

She stepped closer to him and he was on his guard immediately, having learned the hard way not to trust anyone who invaded his personal space like this. Mrs. Lovett's movements were slow and careful however, putting him at ease once more even though she was closer to him than she had ever been.

The baker pulled him into a dance just like he had done earlier, only her gestures were gentle and slow, giving him the chance to stop her. Sweeney didn't want to do so however, the music and the movements both bringing back vague memories and reminding him that this wasn't something that should happen.

But he had already danced with her that day, in a way that was in a way much worse than anything that she could possibly do now. Even though he was this time very much aware of the petite body of the woman against his own, he didn't want to stop.

His body had been hurting but strangely, the pain decreased in intensity as he moved with her. His mind too found some clarity after the justified but horrible murder he had just committed.

The baker and the barber danced slowly in the dark through the now clean tonsorial parlor, guided by the hesitant and far from fluent playing of Mrs. Lovett's adoptive son, but to Sweeney it was the most beautiful song he had ever heard. As he listened to it, it became easier to fill in the gaps in the boy's playing with his own mind, as if he could remember more of the tune as he spent more time dancing with his landlady.

Mr. Todd had been mostly unaware of her when he had waltzed her through the room earlier that day, but now he was aware of anything. The pressure of her hand in his own, the feeling of her chest against his, the long curls that had escaped from their pins during the hard work that tickled his face...

But even if Sweeney had wanted to stop it, he hadn't been able to. He was lost in the moment, both the current one and a similar one that had taken place almost two decades ago. They seemed to mix in his mind, the memory of that evening long ago resurfacing as he gently spun the baker around, but always pulling her back in his arms eventually.

Later he would think – about the man he had just murdered, about the men who were still alive, and most of all about the woman he was currently holding in his arms – but for now, he only wanted to dance with her.


	23. Picture 2

Picture

Mr. Todd paced through Mrs. Lovett's parlor, wondering why the woman was never there when he actually needed her for once. She was doubtlessly working in the bakehouse now but he didn't want to disturb her as she was busy getting rid of the bodies of his victims.

He found himself reluctant however just to go downstairs and face her right now. For some reason, he didn't like the sight of her, covered in blood from head to toe. He didn't know why this disturbed him, especially because it had never done so in the past, but it somehow it seemed _wrong _to him now to see the woman in a way as if she was some sort of angel of death, or a demon herself.

Now that the baker and he had spent a few moments that had been filled with more than mere indifference and annoyance, he had begun to see how his demands and schemes affected her. Working day and night was something he didn't worry about, but sometimes he felt that it wasn't good for her to spend her nights chopping up human bodies instead of mere animal meat. He had once, after a particularly satisfying day of throat cutting, even gone as far as to suggest that he would do the dirtiest work for her, but she hadn't accepted his offer and he hadn't insisted.

Even though he didn't feel at ease in the parlor, that reminded him so much of his landlady, he decided to wait. He only needed to know how soon his used shirts were washed again, his pile of clean once having decreased more drastically than usually that day, and he didn't have anything better to do anyway.

Continuing his restless pacing, his eyes fell on a pile of paper that was lying on the table where, judging from the empty cup of tea, the baker had sat earlier.

Wondering what she had been doing, he sat down and took a look at the documents. Only then he saw that it wasn't paperwork like he had thought, but pictures instead.

He cast a quick glance on them before he could stop himself. The barber wasn't surprised when he saw quite a few photographs of a young Mrs. Lovett surrounded by people with equally auburn hair.

Having lost his interest, he stood up, determined now to confront Mrs. Lovett, covered in blood or not, before he found himself doing more things that he shouldn't.

But as he did so, another picture caught his attention, probably because it was printed on different paper than all the other photographs.

As he looked at it for a moment longer, he could tell that it looked as if it was cut out of a newspaper. It seemed like it didn't belong to the other photographs at all, but here it was, right between them.

Actually curious now, he scrutinized the picture, wondering even more why she had bothered keeping it. The image of a seemingly very recently married couple was printed on the paper, but the woman on the photograph obviously wasn't Mrs. Lovett and the man wasn't her husband, not did he look like any of the relatives that he had seen on the other pictures.

And then, after a long moment of staring at the image, he saw it. On the right side of the picture, in the upper corner, a woman and a man could be seen. They were dancing, and even on the low quality of the paper that the picture was printed on, it was clear that they were lost in a world of their own.

Even though the picture had been taken so long ago and all that mattered had changed since those days, he recognized the man and the woman. But yet, he had to look at the picture for a long time to be sure that he actually saw the image and that his eyes weren't somehow betraying him.

However, even as it dawned on him that he was indeed looking at a picture of himself and his landlady, he didn't understand it. The two of them were dancing in a way that they shouldn't have been. It was not that their movements or the way that they were dressed was inappropriate, but the way they were dancing, visible even in that endlessly short moment that the image was created, suggested of familiarity and affection that shouldn't exist.

He remembered that the baker and he had danced together not so long ago, something that he wasn't too proud of in retrospect. But at least it hadn't been like _this_, as if she was more than a friend. But there was undeniably something in the way that the two of them held each other on the old picture that hinted at more than friendship.

Somehow, the barber had always thought that he had never danced like this; his Lucy hadn't liked to do so and the way he was treating Mrs. Lovett during the moment that the picture was taken was one that should be reserved for his wife and his wife only. But yet, the baker and he _were_ acting in a way that was so completely wrong in his eyes.

During the past few weeks he had begun to see that Mrs. Lovett hadn't lied when she had told him that the two of them had been friends in the old days. They had spent quite some time together and the barber had begun to see that this wasn't so unlikely after all.

He vaguely remembered some of those moments now that he was back in London. As he was getting to know the baker a little better and began to appreciate her more, it dawned on him that she was a person that he genuinely liked. If he thought so now, the man who he had once been certainly had.

But there was a big difference between friendship and whatever it was that he was seeing at this picture. He couldn't recognize it, but there was something in the way the baker looked at him and the way the younger version of himself held her protectively that defied every definition of mere friendship.

Before he could attempt beginning to figure out what had been going on between Mrs. Lovett and himself on that particular night, the baker herself appeared from the bakehouse, the smell of soap that lingered around her the only proof of the gruesome work she had just done once again for him.

"You weren't supposed to see that," she said, looking at the picture that he was still holding.

"Then don't leave it in sight like this," he snarled, instinctively snapping at her like he used to do, as if he somehow could undo the image of unexplainable affection that he had just witnessed that way.

In spite of the situation however a part of him realized that it was unfair and wrong to treat her like this. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"I didn't know that I had to keep this out of sight; you usually never come here."

Her voice was sadder than it should be given the situation, but the barber was too busy choosing his next words to notice.

"We really were friends once, weren't we?"

The words seemed so unlikely even as they left his lips, but in his heart he began to understand that there once had been a deep, very deep bond between Mrs. Lovett and the man who was known as Benjamin Barker.

"Yes, we were," she replied quietly, his outburst seemingly forgotten already.

Based on the picture he was still staring at, Sweeney wondered whether there had been something more than friendship between them, no matter how unlikely this seemed. But he couldn't detect anything in her voice that confirmed this, and he didn't dare asking, not wanting to find things that shouldn't exist, no matter how long ago.


	24. Comfort 2

Comfort

It was cold in Sweeney Todd's tonsorial parlor. Very cold. It was something that the barber usually wouldn't be bothered by. He was used to the extremes that the world had to offer and there was nothing that could possibly happen in London that could even compare to the strangeness of a lot of things that he had experienced when he was in banishment.

Sometimes, the barber wondered whether he was still be able to feel things at all. There were moments that he was convinced that he had indeed lost this ability.

But now, after the ending of a rather quiet day, he found himself shivering. He wasn't really sure whether it actually was the wintry cold wind that made it seem as if the walls of the building that his landlady owned weren't there at all.

Mr. Todd began to pace through the barber shop, hoping to get warmer that way and to find an explanation for the sudden uncontrollable reaction of his body.

Usually the restless movements would calm him somewhat as well – it was one of the few things that still could – but now it made him only realize that his feet hurt after having been standing for the greater part of the day, and that his back and legs were sore.

It felt suddenly strange to live in this room again. It was not that there were places where Sweeney Todd could still feel at ease, but the barber shop where he once used to live with his family and were dozens of men now paid with their lives for the fate of his wife and child, was a location where he could usually feel relatively peaceful. But not now however.

There was something about the room that made it unpleasant to be there, as if the walls and roof were trying to smother him somehow. Even though there was a fire in the heater in the corner of his room – Mrs. Lovett had made sure of that – it seemed as if it was colder inside the tonsorial parlor than it should be.

Absent-mindedly polishing one of his razors, the barber made his way outside, standing still on the small landing where the chairs leading to his tonsorial parlor ended. It was of course even colder there than it was inside, but at least it seemed as if it was there somewhat easier to breathe.

Mr. Todd looked around, eyes taking in the inhabitants of Fleet Street. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but this didn't cease the feeling of uneasiness within him.

Mrs. Lovett was working downstairs, cleaning tables with the help of Toby. The pie shop had probably just closed and the baker and the boy were now preparing for a new day of selling pies, right after another one had only just ended.

The barber's eyes were fixed on his landlady, unable to look away from her even as her back was turned towards him and she walked from table to table, leaning over them in order to clean them with a rag.

Something stirred inside of Sweeney, something that made him lose awareness of the cold wind that was blowing through his clothes as if he wasn't wearing any at all. His hand had ceased its almost subconscious movements of cleaning the razor, now holding on to the knife so tightly that it almost hurt. But this too was something the barber wasn't aware of.

Done cleaning one row of tables, Mrs. Lovett was about to start with the next one. She turned around in order to do so, and she looked up to the landing where he was standing. He could tell by the way she did so that it was an action that she repeated many, many times a day.

Their gazes met and in spite of the distance and growing darkness between them, he could see the happiness in her eyes, the surprise to find him actually looking at her. The fact that the baker was so pleased to see him, delighted him in a way that was both unexpected and unexplainable.

They just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Then Mrs. Lovett smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile he had ever remembered seeing. There was a silent promise in it, an encouragement, something that calmed the restlessness that had driven him out of his room.

But even though he felt in a strange way rather at ease now, standing in the cold wind and watching the baker, Sweeney didn't want to go back inside. He didn't have to do so in order to know that he would miss this as soon as Mrs. Lovett was out of his sight.

Because of the falling darkness he couldn't be sure, but it seemed to him as if a blush was forming on his landlady's smiling face. Whether this was actually happening or not, she kept returning his gaze, seemingly happier with each second that their eyes were locked.

Toby said something to hear that the barber couldn't hear and as soon as the boy opened his mouth, the moment was broken. The baker turned around abruptly, continuing her work as she answered to the boy.

Sweeney felt strangely bereft at the unexpected loss of direct contact. He kept looking at Mrs. Lovett however, just watching her doing her daily work being almost even more satisfying than spilling the blood of his customers.

Time passed but he wasn't aware of it, didn't notice how she moved from one table to the next, hardly saw the boy who was never more than a few steps away from her. Even as day turned gradually into night and he could hardly see her anymore, his eyes were focused on the unruly hair and incredibly pale skin that he had become familiar with.

And then, she was gone. It only made sense that she went inside her warm house as soon as her work outside was done, but Sweeney felt as if something precious was taken from him. The cold that he hadn't been aware of as long as he was watching her caught up with him and he found himself shivering once again. He should go back inside his barber shop, but he knew that things wouldn't be much better there.

He didn't know whether it was a good idea or not, but at the moment it simply seemed to be the only option. His steps were hesitating at first as he made his way downstairs, but he found himself walking much more quickly as he approached the pie shop.

He was greeted by warmth as he entered the large area. It was not the fire that was burning in the hearth however that drove away the cold within him, but the sight of the woman he had been watching earlier.

She wasn't aware of him as she continued her work inside the building, where were plenty of more tables and chairs that needed to be cleaned. Sweeney however didn't mind at all; he was more than happy to continue watching her, his dark eyes not looking away from her once.

Quite soon however the baker seemed to be content with the current level of cleanliness of the furniture in the pie shop. Asking Toby to sweep the floor, she headed for her parlor. Once again Sweeney lost her out of his sight, but this time there wasn't a moment of doubt about what he should do to keep the cold away, already knowing that the fire that he was standing quite close to wouldn't be enough to keep him warm.

He followed her to the parlor, making sure that Toby didn't see him. The barber stood still just below the threshold, hidden in the darkness, and watched with silent and close attention how the baker basically collapsed in a comfortable looking chair. The long sigh that accompanied this briefly reminded him that he wasn't the only one feeling wrecked after another almost endless day of work.

Sweeney was somewhat surprised that the baker didn't pick up a book or engage in another relaxing activity to rest a little before continuing her work in the basement of the building, where a few of his victims were waiting for her.

Instead, the baker sat very still, staring at the fire in the hearth with unseeing eyes. She too shivered, as if the flames that her eyes saw didn't seem to exist for the rest of her body, let alone were able to warm it.

After a while, she took off her boots and began to massage her feet, releasing a small groan of discomfort as she did so. She ceased the attempt to relieve the pain almost immediately however, as if knowing that it was no use trying to tend to her sore feet.

She propped her legs up on a chair opposite the one she was currently sitting on. Sweeney expected her to close her eyes and sleep until she had to go to the bakehouse, but from his position near the door he could see that the baker's eyes remained open.

There was something about her that undid some of the relative peacefulness that he had felt earlier because of her. Initially, he had the idea that she at least was happy now that she had a boy who was like a son to her and made more money than she could spend.

But as she was sitting there all by herself, even the gentle light of the fire couldn't erase the lines in her face and the weary look in her eyes. He was looking at a woman who was exhausted by more than demanding work and although he didn't know what it was that had changed his usually so cheerful landlady into this broken looking woman, he was unnerved by the sight. It seemed as if she wasn't able to relax, even though she needed to rest just as much as he did.

The barber felt suddenly very foolish, just standing there staring at the baker. There was something that he – both of them - needed very much, but he didn't know what this was. But trying to figure it out was strangely difficult when he was so close to Mrs. Lovett; looking at her made it hard for him to think.

Just remaining where he was however wouldn't change anything, even he knew that. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he had stepped into the parlor, clearing his throat to get the baker's attention.

Mrs. Lovett's head snapped towards him, a look of disbelief, shock and delight appearing on her face as she saw him. She stood up quickly, almost stumbling over the boots she had just taken off, and set a few steps in his direction.

Only then she seemed to realize that she had no idea what he was doing there – and neither did he.

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again almost immediately, as if she was too overwhelmed by surprise to formulate a coherent question or remark.

Mr. Todd too had no idea how to react now that he had finally made his presence clear to her. There was something about the baker however that seemed to draw himself to her and he found himself setting a few more steps in her direction.

The look in the baker's eyes changed, as if she suddenly realized something that he still didn't. She stood very still for a moment, studying his expression in a way that almost scared him, as if she was trying to read his very soul.

Seemingly convinced by what she saw, Mrs. Lovett took another step forward. Sweeney found himself mimicking the movement and a moment later, the baker and the barber were standing face to face, their bodies so close that he could almost read all the lines in her face, that seemed to tell a very sad but to him mostly unknown story.

She didn't speak but once again she was scrutinizing him. He returned her gaze with more confidence now, hoping that she would find the answer that was hidden for him.

The baker took one more step towards him and was now so close to him that their bodies were actually touching. The sudden closeness confused Sweeney Todd, but not in a way that he found immediately bothersome.

Mrs. Lovett hesitated again, as if giving both of them the chance to get away from whatever it was that they were going to do.

Although there was no denying that Sweeney's heartbeat was decreasing drastically and that the baker's presence unsettled him in a way that was completely new to him, he refused to step back. Instead, he extended his arms towards the baker. He wasn't sure what he intended to do or to achieve by this, but it was all the confirmation that the baker needed.

Resting her head against his chest, her head fitting perfectly beneath his chin, she wrapped her arms around his back.

Sweeney was taken aback by the fact that his landlady appeared to be embracing him, but at the same time he wasn't surprised at all. It took only a very small effort to move his already stretched arms around her as well, resting his hands on the small of her back.

The gasp that the gesture elicited was almost inaudible, but the barber heard it anyway. It made him let out the breath he had subconsciously been holding.

They stood still for another moment, even as they were holding each other, as if both of them were unsure what to do and how to behave now that they had crossed this boundary without being fully aware of it themselves.

Mrs. Lovett seemed to recover from the shock that their unusual and spontaneous actions had caused first. She breathed in deeply and tightened her embrace. Intuitively, Sweeney pulled her closer towards him as well, his hands beginning to caress her back without having explicit permission to do so.

As he was holding the woman who had become his one and only friend during the past few months for the very first time, something strange happened within the barber's being. The coldness that he had felt earlier disappeared, as if it was too weak to defend itself against the heat radiating off the woman in his arms. The restlessness that had made him feel captivated even though he was a free man now once more, decreased to a level that was almost insignificant now that he was embraced by Mrs. Lovett.

The barber couldn't explain these sudden changes, but for once that didn't bother him at all. He didn't understand what was happening between the baker and himself but he couldn't mind as long as they could simply stay like that.

Mrs. Lovett was relaxing in his arms and even though he could see nothing of her now except for the messy curls that were impossible to miss when he buried his face in them, he could feel that she was for some reason much calmer now that he was holding her than she had been when she had been attempting to rest in her favorite chair near the fire.

Sweeney too was calming down in a way he couldn't even remember doing and was more than happy to surrender to the blissful oblivion that overtook him when he surrendered himself to the baker's warmth.

Embracing his landlady and being hold by her in return wasn't something that he had ever considered, let alone had expected to actually do at one point, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it so much that he was truly distressed when Mrs. Lovett gently removed himself from his embrace.

He looked at her, raising one eyebrow, not knowing what she was doing and hoping with all his being that this wasn't the end of the completely unusual but heavenly moment they had just shared.

A small smile appeared on her face when she saw this, making her seem a bit more like the young, optimistic woman who she should be in his opinion. The change that caught his attention most however was clearly seen in her eyes; they weren't as empty and sad as they had been when he had been watching her, but there was a sparkle and joy in them that stirred something deep within him once more.

She guided him towards the chair she had just been sitting in herself and softly pushed him down in it. Too mesmerized to react, he simply let her do so.

The baker stood right in front of him, knees brushing against his own, and extended her hands to him, a questioning look on her face.

Sweeney was confused by her actions once more, but as she placed her knee down on the chair he was already sitting on, he realized what she was asking him without using any of the words that might end the spell that had enchanted them.

What she wanted to do would bring them even further away from the boundary that they had just crossed, but Sweeney was beyond the point of caring. Whether it was right or wrong, he needed the warmth that she offered, needed the way she made him feel at ease even though there was nothing else that still could... he needed her.

It was a determined move, not a subconscious action like it had been before, when he pulled Mrs. Lovett both onto the chair and onto the part of his body already being there.

She hiked up her skirts to her knees, straddling him, and even though the mere suggestion should fill him with a sense of rejection and disgust, he did nothing at all to prevent her from doing so.

There was a moment of awkwardness when they tried to make themselves comfortable in the more than unusual position, but before both of them knew it, they were caught up in the most soothing and enjoyable embrace that both of them had ever known.

Even though Mrs. Lovett's body was pressed against his own in a totally inappropriate manner and he could feel her warm and rather ragged breath against his neck, Sweeney relaxed in a way he hadn't done for a very long time. Especially when the baker loosened up as well and rested her head on his shoulder, Mr. Todd calmed down completely and he gladly allowed her to caress his sides with surprisingly gentle and consoling hands.

Even though essentially nothing had changed, Sweeney Todd knew that his life would never be the same again. The cause for this was in his eyes most unlikely, but he didn't intend to ever let go off Nellie Lovett again.


	25. Baking 2

Baking

Mr. Todd paced through his barber shop, thoughts of vengeance filling his mind. But there was something that distracted him from thinking of a way to get to Judge Turpin. Sweeney Todd's mind didn't wander away from its purpose often and even he knew that there had to be something special going on for him to lose his focus on the Judge for even the shortest of moments

Sweeney stood still, looking carefully at his surroundings. Not able to see anything different about it, he looked outside; but there too didn't seem anything strange to be going on.

The barber took a deep breath, forcing himself to think of finding a perfect way to kill Turpin – and that's when he noticed it. It wasn't an object or another person's presence that had caught his attention, but a _smell_.

There was something that smelled rather good, something that seemed vaguely familiar. But even though he tried, he couldn't remember where he had smelled it before. Scrutinizing his barber shop once more, he realized that it wasn't coming from his own room. There was only one other area where the smell could come from.

There was something that it reminded him of, something that had taken place long ago and that he had forgotten in the many and long years that had followed. But still, it reminded him of a very pleasant moment, one that he hadn't shared with his wife, but with the baker who was there now, even though that his Lucy was gone.

Sweeney rushed downstairs, eager to find out what was going on. The smell in his barber shop had to be coming from one of Mrs. Lovett's rooms that were located right beneath the part of the building where the barber himself lived. He had the feeling that he would find the baker and the source of the mysterious smell in one of the two rooms that were beneath his tonsorial parlor, which was either the pie shop or her kitchen.

The pie shop turned out to be empty except for Toby, who was sweeping the floor. It wasn't a surprise however that there was no one except for the boy, seeing that it was far past closing time of both the shops.

He continued to the kitchen, a bit less eager to do so because he considered that area less neutral than the pie shop. To him, the kitchen qualified as being part of the personal quarters of the baker, where he still wasn't really tempted to go because being there empathized the fact that he was crossing more than spatial borders by doing so.

The barber's curiosity was evoked however and he wanted to find the source of the memory that was triggered by the smell, knowing that dwelling on the past was less painful than living in the present.

The door to the kitchen was open, but as he saw that the baker was indeed inside the room, he knocked on the door anyway, not wanting to burst in and give Mrs. Lovett a fright.

She looked up when she heard him, a smile appearing on her face immediately. In spite of himself he stood still for a moment, staring at her. There was something about that smile that reminded him of days that had passed a long time ago, of times when neither of them had known the tragic events that were waiting for them just around the corner.

But most of all it was just good to see her like this, her happiness at seeing him the proof of the fondness that was growing between them. He didn't return the smile with a similar gesture – his urge to smile was something even Mrs. Lovett couldn't bring back – but he nodded to her, acknowledging her greeting.

The smell was much stronger here than it had been in his room. He recognized it when he tore away his eyes from the baker's face and watched what she was actually doing.

When he realized at last that it was the smell of chocolate that had interrupted his scheming, he wondered why he hadn't not this before.

The sight of his landlady – his friend – melting chocolate in a pan above a small fire brought back more memories than the mere smell had done. The scene was almost exactly as it had been more than fifteen years ago and for a moment it really seemed like he had somehow ended up in one of his own memories.

The fact that both the baker and he were quite a bit older now and carried a lot more burdens with them than they had done all those years ago was undeniable however . But the thoughts of revenge and loss were temporarily forgotten as he walked towards Mrs. Lovett, just like he had done once in the distant past.

His landlady's eyes lingered on him for just a bit too long, as if she couldn't believe that he actually was interested in what she was doing.

"I... I remember this," he said, feeling the need for once to explain himself.

Mrs. Lovett smiled again, as if truly delighted to hear that he hadn't forgotten about a moment that was for some reason very important for her. Once again, Sweeney couldn't help but stare at her, fascinated by the way her lips curled upwards and her eyes sparkled.

"It's funny," she said. "This is the first time that I'm baking those cookies again since that day that you helped me with them."

"What happened?" he asked, shocked to hear that she hadn't been able to bake the cookies she was so fond of.

"Times were hard here as well," she replied. "For a long time, I had no money for things like this."

A recent but usually ignored image of the starving baker wearing torn clothes appeared in his mind as he recalled in what state she had been in when he had returned to Fleet Street. Indeed, he wasn't the only one whose life had changed in a most unpleasant way.

"Do you mind if I stay and watch?"

The foresight of going back to his room to brood wasn't as tempting as it once had been at all; planning murders would doubtlessly be even more difficult now that he knew what Mrs. Lovett was doing here. Besides, the kitchen was warm and brightly lit a condition he for once preferred over his own cold and dark room. And in a way it seemed only natural to be here now, just like he had been there during the previous time that she had baked the cookies.

There were no chairs in the kitchen, but the baker, as if sensing that he intended to stay for a while and actually wished to be comfortable for once, patted on an empty spot on the table she was working at.

Sweeney hesitated for a moment but then sat down on the table like she had suggested, legs swinging lightly a few inches above the floor as he inspected Mrs. Lovett's work from his new vantage point.

She continued working like he hadn't just interrupted her and he was rather grateful that she did so. The change from his cold and empty barber shop to the warm kitchen that was filled with his landlady's presence was a rather big one and he needed some time to adjust.

Simply watching her doing such a normal and innocent thing as baking cookies was more relaxing than he could've thought possible. There was something about the way that her hands mixed and shaped the dough that was strangely calming. It freed his mind from the thoughts of blood and dead and this difference too was a welcome one.

"You want to try some?" she asked after a few minutes, gesturing at some of the chocolate that she hadn't melted yet. "The rest is too hot to eat now."

The mere thought of Sweeney Todd voluntarily lowering himself to the consumption of this particular kind of food was a ridiculous one, but the barber found the offer impossible to resist.

He carefully took a small bit from the piece she offered him – not because he expected the chocolate to be poisoned or something like that, but because he wanted to savor the taste of it. Chocolate was a luxury he hadn't known for a very long time and even though indulging himself now that he technically could do so, it wasn't something he allowed himself to do.

This was different somehow. Eating the chocolate didn't make him feel as if he was betraying his wife because he was enjoying something that was lost for her forever, but it only seemed to deepen the bond with the baker who he was currently watching closely.

As the chocolate found their way into his system, Sweeney found himself feeling even more at ease. His wife had always said that chocolate made her feel better. He had never really understood this and he still couldn't explain it now, but the barber himself felt less awful when he took several not so small bites.

Baking wasn't something he could do, not even when he watched his mother and later his wife preparing their meals. But now that he was looking at the baker, he began to see the logic and purpose of her movements. Without even trying, it made somehow sense to him when she picked up one of the various cooking utensils that were lying on the table before her in a seemingly random way.

It became some sort of inward and personal game for him to predict when she was going to choose certain tools in the process. Even though it was completely trivial and useless, he found a sort of rare delight in it. It was as if he could understand the baker, just by looking at her.

Her roller pin moved in his direction when she put it back with a bit too much force, her movements suddenly a lot quicker than they had been before as she cast a glance on the clock.

Without thinking about it twice, he handed it to her when she extended her arm to the place where the tool had been before it rolled away.

He was rewarded with another smile, this one even more radiant than the previous one had been.

"We've got just a few more minutes," she said. "The cookies have to get into the oven before the chocolate on it gets too cold."

Sweeney had no idea why this seemed to matter, but it wasn't important. What did matter was the huge amount of dough and the liquid chocolate that was still above the fire.

"I think I overestimated that a bit," she sighed, seeing what he was looking at. "I wanted to make lots of cookies for Toby and myself – and for you. It just seems that I don't have enough time."

He was flattered by the fact that she had considered him even though he usually couldn't bring himself to eat anything that she gave him. Not because it didn't taste good – because it did – or because he didn't want to – because he did – but because eating was one of the not so few natural human actions that he found hard to develop again now that he was back in an actual society.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was standing right next to the baker, grabbing a handful of dough like he had seen her do countless times. He shaped it with the roller pin like she had done as well as he could and then reached for the spoon that was in the bowl of melted chocolate, so he could poor some of the deliciously smelling dark substance over the pale dough.

This time he was completely oblivious to the way she stood absolutely still for a moment, as if she truly was unable to believe what was happening. She didn't smile this time, but there was a look in her eyes that would've left Sweeney rooted to the floor if only he had seen it.

She returned to her work, even more joy in her movements than there had been before, and if he hadn't been so caught up in the work Sweeney would've realized that doing something like this with the baker at his side was so much more enjoyable than any murder he had ever committed.

The amount of almost finished cookies that was placed on the plate which was to be shoved into the oven later grew rapidly, but Sweeney didn't even think of stopping just yet. He was more than glad that there was such a huge amount of ingredients.

He had thought at first that being part of this would give him some much needed rest, because it was so much like one of the afternoons from the long gone past in which he had no idea yet of the horrors that existed within the world he was part of. But as he was baking chocolate cookies with Mrs. Lovett once again, it was not the old days that he was reminded of.

If anything, their joined effort made clear to him that there was hope left, even now, and that he didn't have to live this new life alone. He could rely on the woman who had become his only friend; not only in times of great loneliness and despair, but also during moments like this, almost free from the guilt and pain that usually tormented him.

He had never thought that there would be a future now that his wife was gone, but now there was no more denying that his life wasn't over now that all that once mattered to him was taken from him. He had a future, and he only had to look at Mrs. Lovett to see it.

She differed as much from Lucy as a woman possibly could, but there was something in Mrs. Lovett that Sweeney couldn't define, something that made him almost as eager to be in her company as his wife once had done.

The thought was a terrifying one indeed – when had he even begun to compare the baker to his wife in such a way? The realization overwhelmed the barber even as his hands continued their work.

He focused on the dough and chocolate in front of him, refusing to acknowledge the dangerous thoughts that were finding their way into his mind. For a moment he pretended that the baker wasn't there at all. He had done this for so long that it worked rather well.

But when his hand brushed against the baker's as they simultaneously reached for the spoon standing in the bowl with the melted chocolate, even Sweeney couldn't deny the spark that he felt at the accidental contact.

He wasn't sure whether this was a relief or not, but mere moments later Mrs. Lovett announced that the cookies had to be placed in the oven now and that the work was done now. Most of the dough and all of the chocolate had been transformed into cookies, but Sweeney had been so fixed on the process itself that he hadn't noticed this.

Together they pushed the large plate of almost completed chocolate cookies into the oven. Although there was no reason for him to linger, especially not now that the dynamics between the baker and he were changing in a way that they shouldn't, Mr. Todd remained in the kitchen, his own room more unappealing than it had ever been now that he was discovering what could be found in other parts of the house.

Trying to understand what on earth was going on between Mrs. Lovett and himself, he was unaware of the baker who was slowly approaching him, dark, unblinking eyes fixed on him.

Only when she reached for his chocolate covered left hand, he realized to some extent what her intentions were. Sweeney tensed, preparing himself to leave after all, depending on what Mrs. Lovett was going to do.

She simply took his hand in her own however, smiling mischievously as the liquid chocolate that covered both of their hands mixed. Even the barber found it rather amusing to see how the chocolate moved together with their hands.

Mrs. Lovett held his hand with one of her own and used the other to draw figures in the chocolate coating his skin. Fascinated by the feeling of her fingers moving against the back of his hand, he let her.

He had no idea what the baker was doing or what she intended to achieve by this, but he saw no reason to make her stop. The gestures were sweet in more than one way, but innocent at the same time. It was easier to accept her touches this way, their hands being unmistakably their own but almost seeming to belong to others now that they were covered with chocolate.

Doubtlessly sensing his lack of rejection, his landlady continued whatever it was that she was doing, her touches becoming less shy and more insistent. Her fingers reached for the inside of his palm, causing the barber to gasp as she brushed against the most sensitive part of her hand. Instead of shocking him, this intrigued him even more.

After a timeless moment, Sweeney found himself reaching for her hands as well, caressing them with his fingers. The look in the eyes of the baker was almost enough to make him melt just like the chocolate, mesmerizing him in a way even the delicious food hadn't.

The baker smiled again and he found himself doing almost the same thing as their hands were rubbing the chocolate against each other's skin. The strangeness of the moment that was growing between them calmed his usually over alert instincts caught him off guard in a way that hadn't happened for a long time.

Maybe his eyes had even fluttered closed, making him even more unaware of that what Mrs. Lovett was going to do until it was too late already. Before he knew it, it weren't her fingers but her lips and tongue that were caressing his fingers.

His body froze when Sweeney realized what was happening, what the baker had perhaps intended to try to do eventually all this time. But even though he felt rather tricked by the for once seemingly innocent baker and felt even more strongly that this was something they shouldn't be doing, he did nothing to stop her. As a matter of fact, he even began to doubt after a moment whether it would be justified even if he did. Was this really so different compared to what he just allowed her to do so, or was it only so seductive because he _felt _it was?

Her eyes were closed as she moved her head closer to his hand, tongue circling around one digit after another to suck the chocolate off it. The barber vaguely sensed that his body was trembling, overwhelmed by the baker's touch in a way it had never been before. The warmth and joy that welled within him were almost like the chocolate he had eaten earlier, only this was much, much stronger. The feeling was overpowering, enchanting him even though he didn't want this to happen.

The baker let go off his hand when his fingers were relatively clean, staring at him with those eyes that seemed to pierce his soul. When she reached for his other hands however, it was too much for the barber.

He took a quick step back, only then noticing how labored his breath was. He was torn for a moment, a part of him genuinely tempted just to stay and see what this would lead.

But then rationality took over once again, reminding him with shocking force of the reason why he shouldn't be here, why he shouldn't allow themselves to get carried away like this, why he had sought Mrs. Lovett's presence in a somewhat similar situation all those years ago in the first place.

Realizing what just had happened, he abruptly turned around and fled the kitchen. He rushed back to his barber shop, as if he was free and safe there for Mrs. Lovett's tempting influence.

His wife… it had always been about Lucy, one way or another. But this was changing now, whether he intended to or not. Mrs. Lovett was becoming important to him in a way only his actual family had once mattered to him – still did.

Sweeney collapsed in his chair once he had locked the door of his tonsorial parlor behind him. He could only hope that the rapid rhythm of his heart and breath would decrease quickly, but the smell of chocolate that was still lingering in his room impossible to ignore wasn't exactly helping. The events of that night swirled in his mind, battling for his attention and judgment. The recent memories wouldn't fade for a long time, and he knew it – he doubted whether there would ever be a moment that he would've been able to forget at last what it had felt like when his fingers were teased inside the baker's mouth.

The barber however was sure of one thing: as soon as the cookies were ready to be taken out of the oven, he was going back downstairs to get some.


	26. Hair 2

Hair

It hadn't been his intention to see her like this, but he had. Yesterday night he had gone to the parlor to borrow a book of hers. In spite of the fact that they were getting along much better now than they had done before, Sweeney still felt hesitant to enter parts of the house that were Mrs. Lovett's.

Doing so didn't cease to make him feel that he did something that was wrong, forbidden. He was also becoming more and more aware of the strange feelings she seemed to be harboring for him, which was another reason why he just felt that it was safer to keep out of her way.

So he had sneaked in long after the sun had set, as if feeling that doing so wouldn't be as inappropriate if she didn't know about it. But instead of finding the parlor empty like he had been sure that it would be at such an hour, Mrs. Lovett had been there.

This wasn't very strange or shocking considering the fact that she lived there. The thing that shocked Sweeney completely however was the realization that she had obviously gotten out of bed and that she didn't seem to have changed anything about her appearance after doing so.

This too shouldn't be so surprising because it was indeed the baker's parlor and she could do there whatever she wanted, but this was something Sweeney couldn't comprehend just yet. Thinking was suddenly too difficult as he beheld the indecent state of the woman who had no idea that she was being watched.

He was completely used to the kind of dresses that she wore during the day. He had seen her in material that hardly covered her at all for so long while being completely unaware of her, that the lack of covered skin hadn't been something he was aware of even when his indifferent attitude towards her was changing rather drastically.

The nightgown she was currently wearing wasn't any more exposing than the dresses he usually saw. But even though the lower half of her body was covered by a plaid, there was something very wrong about seeing her like this. He knew this, but yet couldn't force himself to look away.

He also knew very well that he should leave. She hadn't seen him yet and would never know that he had seen her like this, would never be aware of the way he scrutinized her. He should simply return to his barber shop without a book. It didn't matter anymore that he couldn't get any now; even the books that usually distracted him as much from reality as they had done in the old days wouldn't be enough to get this image out of his mind.

But Mr. Todd stood rooted to the spot, staring at every inch of the baker in order to find out why she was making him feel so uncomfortable at that very moment.

Only when she tilted her head somewhat, running a subconscious hand through her hair, he realized that the auburn curls weren't pinned up like they usually were. Even though Mrs. Lovett obviously never paid particular attention to the riot of curls on her head, there was something enchanting about seeing her hair now that it was completely down.

She was sitting near the fire and from his point of view, it seemed as if her curls were burning just like the flames were, red in a way even more beautiful than the precious rubies that he enjoyed to spill.

Now that he knew what was different about her, Mr. Todd however didn't find it any easier to leave. He could stand there for much longer, silently cherishing the unexpected beauty of the woman who meant now as least as much to him as she had done in the past.

After another minute had passed, the baker yawned and began rubbing her eyes, clearly feeling much sleepier than she had done before. Judging from the fact that she closed the book and stood up, she expected to fall asleep much easier now than before.

He had no idea why she had apparently been unable to sleep in the first place – sometimes he wondered how she managed to do as much as she did every single day anyway. But even if he had wanted to think about it, it would've been impossible to do so, or at least at that moment.

As she headed for her bedroom, she moved out of the circle of light that the flames caused. But even as the fire didn't make it seem as if her hair itself was ablaze, he found himself staring at it with fascination.

When she had closed the door of her bedroom behind her, he felt temporarily bereft. Only then he managed to persuade himself to return to his own room.

The image of the fiery curls didn't disappear from his mind. He hardly saw her during the day that followed and he regretted this more than usual. And if he did see her, he stared at the auburn curls, which seemed beautiful to him now even when it was only lit by the gray daylight.

During the evening that followed and their work for the day was done, Sweeney returned to the baker's parlor. He hoped to see the baker again in the way he had done the night before. The fire wasn't lit however and the chair next to it was empty.

The barber was rather disappointed because of this. Only now that it was clear that he wouldn't be able to silently admire her the way he had done before, he realized how much exactly he actually had been looking forward to it.

At that moment he saw a bit of light in the other side of the parlor. Looking for its source, he saw that it was coming from Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. The door that she had closed behind her the day before was slightly ajar now, allowing some candle light to reach the adjoining room where he was currently standing.

He was drawn to the light, but even more to the woman who was currently in the bedroom, judging from the soft sound of humming that he could hear now that he listened carefully.

The barber walked to the open door soundlessly, not knowing what he would see once he arrived there and not knowing whether he should behold what was going on in the baker's most personal quarter to begin with.

When he arrived there, Mr. Todd stood still in front of the threshold. It was darker in the room beyond it than he had thought; only a few candles were lit there. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of light.

As soon as he could see inside the room more properly, he subconsciously held his breath because of the scene that was greeting him.

He couldn't see much more than her silhouette, but it was very clear that Mrs. Lovett was sitting in front of a vanity, removing the pins from the red locks he had admired earlier. As he watched, curl after curl tumbled down her shoulders, contrasting sharply with the white nightgown she was already wearing.

It took quite some time for her to take out all the pins, but Sweeney was once again far from aware of the minutes that passed. When she was done, the baker reached for the brush lying on the surface in front of her.

She moved the item through her hair, her movements quick and clearly impatient. Mr. Todd was somewhat amused by this, not surprised any longer that her curls usually were in such a disarray. The feeling was overwhelmed by guilt however when she stifled another yawn, making it clear even to him that she needed to rest much more than that she needed to smoothen the hair that seemed to be quite impossible to tame anyway.

Even as he was simply watching the baker brushing her hair, memories of days long ago found their way into his mind. Images of a younger version of himself running his fingers through the long locks welled inside of him and even though he didn't know where those memories came from, he found himself longing to repeat the action.

The baker sighed with frustration as she attempted to tidy her hair, the brush obviously meeting more resistance than she liked.

"Let me do it."

His mouth had spoken before he had given it permission to do so, before the desire to actually give in to the urge to touch her in that way he apparently had done in the past had even fully registered.

She turned around to face him and didn't look as surprised – or angry – as he had expected her to be now that she found him lurking in front of her bedroom, spying on her in a way.

The baker simply nodded and that was all the encouragement that Sweeney needed to open the door fully and enter the bedroom after all. He had never been there before, but it wasn't as awkward as he had thought that it would be. He was actually fully focused on Mrs. Lovett herself and wasn't really aware of the rest of his surroundings. This was something that could be dangerous in the best and fatal in the worst situations, but for once he didn't want to be on his guard.

He grabbed another chair and placed it behind the one she was currently sitting on, so he was directly behind her once he sat down as well. Her back was turned towards him, but he could see her in the mirror that was in front of both of them.

Now that she actually was within reach, brushing her hair like he wished to do so didn't seem as easy as it had seemed to him. But there was a look in her eyes that made him simply reach for the curls he had admired earlier, separating one lock from the rest to begin brushing it.

Even as he was just brushing her hair, he couldn't help but savor the feeling of the curls against his skin. Her hair wasn't as soft as Lucy's had been and of course the color was completely different, but it was very pleasant to see and touch anyway. He had always been sure that there was no hair that could be as wonderful as his wife's, but now it was clear to him that he had been mistaken.

When he had brushed the first lock, his skilled hands doing a much better job than Mrs. Lovett had done herself, he simply continued with a next one, very pleased that the baker's hair was so long and messy. Just brushing his landlady's hair was calming in a way even her embraces weren't and he wanted to keep doing it for as long as he could.

There was nothing left of the frustration that the baker had felt earlier – or at least, the sounds of approval that came from her lips made her appear a lot more content than she had been before.

In the recent past he had been worried about crossing boundaries that both of them should stay far away from, but this fear was absent now. This was innocent, a proof of friendship instead of something more than that. Or rather, that was what Sweeney preferred to think.

When he reached for another handful of curls, his fingertips accidentally brushed against her shoulders. He usually would've thought that the shiver that accompanied this touch was caused by shock or perhaps even fear, but the look on her face made clear even to him that she actually enjoyed the unplanned caress.

Delighted that she for some reason liked to be touched like that, he made sure to do it a few more times when he continued his work. It was a relief that he could please her like this, to do something back after all that she had done for him.

He enjoyed the seemingly accidental brushes of skin as well, reminding him that he wasn't a complete monster yet and that he could make Mrs. Lovett happy without doing things that he didn't want to out of loyalty to the woman he loved.

Even as the baker closed her eyes and leaned back against her chair, making the distance between them even smaller, he simply kept brushing her hair. She was warm and alive in a way that nothing else in his world still was, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He worked slowly, not wanting the moment to end. Once he was done doing this, he didn't know whether he'd get the opportunity to touch her like this again. Because even though he wouldn't mind brushing her hair like this night after night, he felt that just asking her permission to do this was once again something that he shouldn't.

Before her hair was completely brushed however, neat and smooth in a way it hadn't been for a very long time, Sweeney had found a way to achieve this. Some of her locks almost reached to her waist when it wasn't kept in place and this would give him a perfect excuse to get in a situation like this with her again, a reason that would make it seem as if he was doing her a favor instead of the other way around.

"I can cut it for you tomorrow morning, if you'd like," he said, intently watching her reflection in the mirror to gauge her reaction. "I can do it before our shops open."

"That would be lovely," she replied immediately, her tone implying that she couldn't believe that he actually suggested this.

He nodded at her in a way that he hoped to be convincing. Judging from the way she smiled, it was.

"I'll see you in the morning then," he said as both of them stood up.

Their closeness was more obvious now that they weren't seated any longer. Sweeney suddenly felt rather awkward to be in such close proximity to the baker, but Mrs. Lovett herself didn't share this feeling.

Moving so quickly that he was only aware of it when it was too late already, she stepped even closer to him. Shocked and scolding himself for allowing her to catch him off guard, he stood absolutely still, his usually instinctively moving body not knowing how to react to _this_.

Too surprised to stop her, he couldn't help but allow her to move towards him until their bodies were touching. The baker stood on her toes then to bridge some of the difference in height between them. And before Sweeney even knew that it was happening, she pressed her lips against his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, her mouth lingering near his ear even when she broke it away from his skin.

The moment didn't last more than a few seconds, and then Mrs. Lovett stepped away from him as if nothing had happened. The barber however was speechless, the tingling of his skin where the baker had kissed him making it difficult to think of a proper way to prevent things from getting out of hand.

"Goodnight," she said as she opened the door of her bedroom to let him out, smiling mischievously at him even as she was offering him a safe way out.

"G-goodnight," he replied when he walked past her, his voice not as stable as it usually was due to Mrs. Lovett's unexpected action.

He exited the room however without further incidents and she simply closed the door behind him. Relaxing somewhat now that the heavy wood was separating them, the barber retreated to his own room. He subconsciously reached for the spot that she had kissed, the tingling sensation only very slowly decreasing in intensity.

Even as he climbed the stairs, he couldn't wait to descend them again. Although Mrs. Lovett had just proven again that he should be as careful around her as he possibly could, he found himself looking forwards to the morning and the moment that he could run his hands through her hair once more.


	27. Sleep 2

Sleep

Sweeney lay motionlessly in his bed, staring into the darkness. He couldn't sleep, even though he was exhausted. The nightmares kept him awake. He tried to hold on to the thought of Nellie; earlier that day he had found another moment of much needed oblivion when she had held him, his head resting on her shoulder and her arms wrapped around his torso. Even her smell lingered on him, but it seemed too long ago that he had experienced that moment of calmness and safety with her.

Usually it would've been enough to give him a few hours of relative easy sleep, but not anymore. The more time he spent with her, the more he seemed to need her, no matter how contradictory that was.

During one of the first times that he had found refugee in her arms, she had told him that she'd always be there for him – no matter when, no matter how. It was something she kept telling him as the weeks past and he found himself seeking her company more and more often.

It had been clear to him that he would never require more of her than an embrace every once in a while. But now he found himself craving her physical closeness in the middle of the night, mere hours after she had held him for the last time. The seemingly unnecessary offer that she had made countless times was echoing in his head.

Mr. Todd was torn between the two possibilities. Even before his mind had come to a decision however, his heart had already chosen. Sooner or later he _was _going to give in to the baker's proposal and he figured that he might as well succumb now to save himself any more minute of tormented loneliness.

A part of him knew that he would be doing both of them a great favor, but the knowledge that the nature of her comfort would be quite different than usual made him hesitant to pursue it.

Finally admitting to himself that he couldn't sleep like this and that he need a few hours of rest as least, he quickly allowed himself to get out of bed after all.

When he arrived in the pie shop half a minute later, he rapidly locked the door again and made his way to his landlady's bedroom, making as little noise as he could when he made his way through the building were both of them lived separately.

He stood still in front of the closed door to her bedroom. Doubt welled inside of him once again but for once he ignored the voice of his conscience that told him to stay away from Nellie Lovett.

The barber knocked lightly on the door. There was no reaction, but after ten long seconds of waiting he entered the usually forbidden room anyway.

She was asleep, her curled up form illuminated by the light of a single candle. For a moment he just stood there, watching her. She looked so peaceful now, as if she was an innocent woman who knew nothing of misery and dead; a woman like his Lucy had been. But Nellie wasn't Lucy and for once, it didn't really matter to him.

He could've stood there for quite a bit longer, just watching the woman who seemed to be more of a mystery to him the more he got to know her. But his eyes were almost falling shut even if he was simply staring at her, the mere sight of her triggering the capability of resting that had been lacking so severely when he had been alone in his room only moments ago.

He had meant to ask her whether she was alright with this – in fact, he had thought there was something that would prevent him from approaching her bed like he was currently doing, seeing how much he was _not_ supposed to be there.

But there was nothing that stopped him, not the faintest memory of Lucy's voice forbidding him to move closer to the sleeping baker or anything else; in fact, it was shockingly easy to do so.

The only thing that made him hesitate, if only for a moment, was the question whether he should really do this now that she was asleep. But he clearly remembered what she had told him earlier and he had the sneaking suspicion that she would be even more relieved because of this than he was.

He discarded his shoes and vest and sat down on the edge of the bed. The baker was within reach now and he could see the slight movement of the blankets that covered her, caused by the slow heaving of her chest.

He pulled the blankets back and slid between them, making sure not to wake her as he did so. As soon as he was surrounded by the warmth of the bed, he pulled the blankets over him, separating himself and the baker from the rest of the world.

He moved closer to her, knowing how pleasant it was to be embraced by her, but not sure yet how it would feel to hold her like this. However, he was more to eager to find out and the anticipation of what he was going to do made his heart beat faster.

She shifted slightly, moving in his direction, as if she was sensing his presence in her sleep. He took advantage of it by wrapping his arms around her waist and cuddling against her.

"It's me," he whispered, not wanting her to be startled by his sudden and unexpected close presence, just in case she was waking.

She still appeared to be sleeping, but she sighed his name in a way that made goose bumps appear on his skin in spite of the warmth of the bed and, most of all, her body. She made herself comfortable against him and he gladly allowed her to do so, breathing in the scent of her as he rested his face in the crook of her neck.

Nellie had been in his arms before, but it had never been like this, so close and so intimate. There had always been some kind of barrier between them, whether it was the presence of others, other obligations, or simply their usual clothes. But now there was no one around to disturb them, there wasn't anything they had to do except for resting, and instead of the thick fabric of his vest or her dress and corset, there was nothing between them now but two thin layers that were his shirt and her nightgown.

But before he fully realized those things and could begin to wonder how he should react to them, his exhausted and now being finally relaxing being surrendered to sleep at last.


	28. Confrontation 2

Confrontation

He had been looking forward to it almost all day and it was a relief for the barber when it was time for him to go to sleep.

For months, he had been afraid of the memories that haunted him as soon as he was all alone and darkness surrounded him. But now he welcomed the night, knowing that he didn't have to spend it alone any longer.

Mrs. Lovett, the woman who had seemed so utterly unimportant to him during those first few weeks after his return to London, was the reason for this. He hadn't believed her when she had said that the two of them had been very good friends before he was sent away. After all, how could anyone who wasn't his beloved Lucy or Johanna matter like his family did?

But as the months had passed and the baker had managed to invade his new life more often and with more force, it had become clear to him that she had been right. Memories of long ago, of long hours spent with the baker instead of his wife, had resurfaced. He had realized that Mrs. Lovett once had made him almost as happy as Lucy had done. That she had done so in a different way than his wife had done hardly seemed to matter.

The problem was now however that he wasn't so sure anymore that the way the baker comforted and diverted him was so much unlike his wife had done after all. Especially as he began to recall how deeply the auburn haired woman had been in love with him – when he began to notice that those feelings hadn't changed at all even as the cruel years had passed – it was becoming unmistakably clear to him that it was a very unwise and unfair thing to allow himself to get so close to her.

But even though he was risking both his sanity and his loyalty to his wife by becoming more to her than he should, he couldn't bring himself to stop this process. The baker was all who was left of his old life and these days it seemed to him more and more often that she was enough to defeat the darkness within him, and more than that.

Whether he was lost in her embrace, watched her quick and determined movements as she baked her famous meat pies, or she cuddled against him as they read one of their favorite books together once again, Sweeney enjoyed the moments that he shared with Mrs. Lovett as much as his tormented being still could. And even though their friendship sometimes seemed to become something more than that, he didn't want to end it, if only because he had no idea how to go on without Mrs. Lovett.

Making sure that his tonsorial parlor was as clean as it should be in order to prevent suspicion, Mr. Todd locked the door of the barber shop behind him and made his way downstairs.

Toby didn't look up when the barber made his way to the bedroom of the woman who took care of him as if he were her own son. The young boy didn't object any longer when the barber sneaked into the most personal room of Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney was grateful for this. He was tired of having to defend himself to the brat. Not only did this waste precious minutes that he could've spent with the baker, but also because _he_ couldn't help it that Toby automatically assumed that he did the most dishonorable things to the baker while in fact the opposite was true.

After knocking three times on the door that separated them, Sweeney quickly made his way into Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. To his delight, the baker was already in bed, the look on her face betraying that she had been eager to see him as well.

Quickly freeing himself from his vest and shoes, the barber made his way into the bed as well, pulling the baker in an embrace as soon as he could properly do so. His body fully relaxed for the first time that day as he held the woman who was so different from his actual wife.

A little voice in the back of his head told him that all this wasn't about mere friendship, that it was something quite different that made him so eager to hold the beautiful baker in his arms. But as Mrs. Lovett sighed happily and made herself comfortable in his embrace, it didn't seem to matter that he was doing things that he shouldn't.

As always, he gladly surrendered himself to the feelings of calmness and peacefulness that she evoked within him. There was something about her that kept the demons that surrounded him during the day at a safe distance.

But more than usual, he was aware of the fact how close her body was to his own. In the past, this would've horrified him, but now he was simply glad to be so near to her, even though he wasn't entirely sure why this was the case.

Usually he fell asleep as soon as he settled himself against her, but this time there was something that kept him awake. More than ever before he was aware of her body against his own and the sensations that this caused deep within him were more than enough to prevent him from sleeping indeed.

For a long moment, he just held the woman, listening to her breath and feeling the small movements of her body right against his own. It was very calming, making him forget about the long and blood-filled day he had had. Sleep still wouldn't come, but the barber didn't mind at all.

Even though they lying very still, there were more and more little things that the barber discovered about his landlady. For a while he was fully focused on the rhythm of her breathing, subconsciously finding himself inhaling and exhaling with the same speed as she did.

After a few minutes he became aware of something that fascinated him even more. Every few seconds, Mrs. Lovett was shivering lightly in his arms. He couldn't imagine that she was cold; he was feeling pleasantly warm himself as he was resting beneath the thick blankets with her far from chilly body right next to him.

Mr. Todd realized after another moment of being close to her that every time that she shivered was almost directly after he had breathed out himself. For some reason, it seemed as if the trembling of her body was caused by his breath against her exposed neck.

This seemed rather bizarre to Sweeney, for his breath couldn't be _that _cold and their bodies should be more than warm enough to compensate for it even if it was.

In spite of himself rather curious, the barber was eager to find out what exactly caused his landlady to react in such a strange way.

He held in his breath for a few seconds, noticing that the woman's body was still during this time indeed. Then, instead of breathing out in the way he had done before, he slowly blew out the breath he had been holding, making sure that it caressed her skin.

As soon as the air from his mouth touched her, the baker shivered in his arms once again. The trembling lasted as long as his breath was teasing her, but even as he slowly breathed in again, her body was jerking slightly.

Mesmerized, Mr. Todd repeated the action. Mrs. Lovett reacted the same way as she had done before, and Sweeney even thought that he could hear the quietest of moans coming from her direction.

All thoughts of sleeping forgotten now, he wanted to find out what more he could do. The barber breathed in deeply and when he exhaled once more, he brought his face so close to his landlady's neck that his nose brushed against her skin.

She reacted in the same way as before, but more violently now. There was no doubt about it this time that the moan of which he hadn't been sure before whether he had actually heard it was really there.

Sensing that it was the direct contact that caused this, he couldn't help but wonder what the limit would be of this – whether there was a limit at all.

The physical reactions of his landlady that his behavior caused was intriguing the barber so much, that he didn't allow himself a moment to wonder whether he should truly be doing this.

Sweeney moved closer to his landlady, tightening his grasp around her waist as he moved his face closer to her neck. He vaguely noticed that she wasn't breathing now at all, as if she was holding her breath in anticipation of what he was going to do next.

He brushed his nose experimentally against her neck, very curious to see how her response would be. He wasn't disappointed; he was awarded with the same reaction as before and because he was even closer to her than he had been the previous time, he was even more aware of her physical response to his touch.

The barber realized vaguely that she reacted to him this way because of the feelings she harbored for him – feelings he was fully aware of now, even though she hadn't told him yet that she hadn't stopped loving her even though so many years had passed.

But this wasn't what he was thinking of when he rubbed her nose against the sensitive skin of her neck and shoulders, savoring the way she shivered and moaned in his arms.

One of his hand began caressing her belly subconsciously, feeling her heated skin beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. She was almost squirming in his arms now, which only increased Sweeney's fascination.

He didn't remember starting to do so, but after a while he found himself kissing the skin that he earlier had only touched with his nose. First, the kisses were nothing but feather light brushes of his lips against her exposed skin, but as her breathing grew heavier and her moans weren't so quiet any longer, his tongue was caressing her as well.

The baker was obviously enjoying herself, but Sweeney too was rather pleased by the developments. There was a heat within him that was even nicer than the warmth that he usually felt when he was in close proximity of Mrs. Lovett and never before they had done something that distracted him so thoroughly from all the things he shouldn't be thinking about continuously.

As he found out by accident that she seemed to like it even more when he sucked lightly on her skin, he continued to do so. He moved his nose and lips over the exposed part of her shoulder and neck, looking for new places that he could touch to see if she would be equally delighted if he did so.

At one point, his eager mouth found the confines of her ear. Without thinking, he took her earlobe between his lips, biting it playfully.

Mrs. Lovett actually groaned as he did this. His lips curled slightly upwards as he heard this, delighted because he could make her feel like this. It was the most obscene sound he had ever heard, making him want to continue – until he fully realized what he was doing. It had started innocently enough, but that border was crossed minutes ago.

When he was inwardly wondering what to do, the baker herself however broke the contact between them. With a sound that seemed to be a combination of frustration and confusion, she moved away from him, to the other side of the bed.

Sweeney missed her physical presence immediately now that he had been aware of her in a way he had never been before. Instinctively he wanted to follow her, pull her back against his chest, but he prevented himself from doing so. There appeared to be more limitations than his own and for the first time it dawned on him that it perhaps wasn't a good idea just to start doing... _that _for reasons other than the obvious one.

"Mr. Todd," she said, her voice hesitant and more quiet than usual. "Sweeney."

It was strange to hear her say his first name. It was probably the first time she had done so. Even though things between them had changed rather drastically even before this night, they had always addressed each other formally, as if feeling not certain enough about the developments between them to do otherwise.

"Nellie," he replied, his first name rolling off his tongue almost as easily as it once had done.

"I... I have to tell you something," she muttered.

He heard the dread in her voice, both making clear to him what she was wanting to say and that it would be very difficult for her doing so.

"You love me."

It was rather bizarre to summarize the tension between them in three apparently innocent words, especially because he was the one doing so. But the shocked silence was followed by a sigh of relief, and Mr. Todd knew that he had done the right thing.

"Do you remember?"

"I do," he replied. "And I'm now aware of the way you... well."

There was another silence before Mrs. Lovett took in a deep breath of air. Sweeney inwardly braced himself, not knowing what was going to come, but that it would possibly influence the rest of his life.

"Sweeney," she said in a tone he had never heard her use before. "I... I've loved you almost as long as I know you. I know that Lucy was the only one for you – and that she probably still is. I _know _that I can never replace her. I've waited for you for years and although it isn't easy, I've accepted the possibility that you'll never be more than a friend."

The barber was listening intently, subconsciously holding his breath as he was awaiting her next words.

"I had often thought – hoped – that the way I feel for you would change. It's mostly just unbearable to see you and to hear you – to _feel _you – while knowing that I don't mean to you what you mean to me. There was a time that I didn't care what would happen, as long as you would talk to me and touch me every once in a while."

Her voice was growing softer, more indecisive, and he could only begin to wonder how difficult it must be for her to tell him this after all those years of silent longing.

"But now I know that I can't go on like this," she continued, her tone a bit more firm, as if she had reached some clarity herself regarding her feelings for him. "No matter how much I love it when you do things like _this_, I... I can't do it any longer. None of this."

The barber's heartbeat had been rather frantic but slowed down significantly as he realized what she was saying, coldness finding his way through the body that had been so deliciously warm before.

"I love you," she whispered, her words hitting him like they had never done before even though she spoke so softly that he almost couldn't hear her. "But if we have to go on like this... it's killing me. You can't love me like you love Lucy, and I _know that. _But if you're still thinking that there can't be more between us than friendship like you did fifteen years ago... I just can't do this any longer. If you think I'll never be more than a friend to you then... then I want to end this, whatever it is that's going on now between us."

Sweeney lay motionless as he tried to process what she was saying. He had expected that a moment like this would come sooner or later, but at this particular moment it came as a complete surprise nonetheless.

He had to make a decision and he had to make it now. But how could he? Mrs. Lovett was asking the impossible of him. He basically had to chose between Lucy and her – and he couldn't live without either of them.

The silence lasted, minute after endless minute, as the barber tried to chose the option that was right for both of them – for all three of them. His eyes were closed, but he could see the tears that were running down the baker's cheeks as the silence wasn't interrupted by the answer that she was so desperate to hear.

He had heard all the arguments in favor of both options so many times before within his own mind. He had considered the possibilities so often already. But still, now that he actually had to chose, he found that doing so was one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

Mr. Todd knew what he _should_ do. There were no guarantees however that giving in to the baker's deepest desire would be good for her – for both of them – in the long run.

The mattress shifted beneath him, indicating that she was moving. He didn't know where she was going to, only that it would be far away from him. It was obvious how she was interpreting his lack of reaction.

His own movement wasn't a fully conscious one. Which seemed rather strange, considering the fact that it was probably the most important one he ever made. But during that final moment of doubt, when he was on the verge of losing her forever – not because of others, but only because of his own indecision – there was only one thing he could do.

Sweeney lunged forward, arms encircling the baker's waist. He pulled her back into the bed, turning her around as he did so, until she was lying in his arms once again, this time with her chest pressed against his and her head resting on his shoulders as she lay on top of him.

He just held her, rocking her gently as salty liquid reached his skin, gentle hands soothingly caressing the body he had tormented earlier that night. He wasn't sure whether the tears were hers or his, but it was of no importance.

They didn't speak, but it was better that way. They would talk later, carefully finding out how far exactly they were able and willing to go. He held on to her like he had always done, knowing that he would have to get used to the idea that he would continue to do so, but in a different way than before.

But for now, the embrace told her everything that he couldn't put in words.


	29. Confirmation 2

Confirmation

It had started like any other meal. There were days that the barber had detested the presence of Mrs. Lovett and that he had dreaded to eat for a reason that was unclear to him. But now that they were growing closer, his landlady and he had developed the habit of eating together three times a day and he had become very fond of those times.

No matter how unpleasant spending even the smallest amount of time with her had been in the past, doing so now was the only bearable part of his day. Holding her and being held by her made him feel as if not everything was lost, as if there were things worth living for even now that his family was gone, as if there was something important left even when the Judge and the Beadle would be dead.

Being close to her made him feel at ease in a way that had seemed impossible, but it were small and simple things like this that gave him a sense of normalcy, made him believe with an increasing easiness and frequency that his life wasn't over yet. In fact, sharing meals with the baker had brought back some of his appetite of which he had been sure that he had lost it forever.

But now, he found himself incapable of eating. He could only look at the baker as she sipped from her wine. Never before had he been really aware of her body, or at least, not like _this, _and now he couldn't stop staring at it. He saw the fabric of her new dress exposing just a bit more of pale skin than was appropriate, the way her chest heaved gently with every breath that she took.

Hunger for something else than food welled up inside of him as he watched her.

Mrs. Lovett was his landlady and accomplice who had become his dearest and only friend. She prevented him from losing himself by just being there. He loved her, in a way, because she was always there for him and understood him like no one else did. She supported him with everything he did even though she knew exactly what was going on inside his barber shop.

She was the only connection to his past and she was the only one who could bring back memories from the days that there had been no darkness. He knew now that she had been there for him, was remembered of the special bond they had shared before he was banished.

He had accepted her when she told him that she only wanted to continue their growing relationship if he genuinely believed that there could be more between them than just friendship; she had spent too much time already fooling herself and didn't want to persuade herself any longer of something that he could never be more than a dream.

He had done so not because he lied, but because he truly began to believe that there could be more between them than friendship. When he had made this clear to her however, he had been thinking of gentle kisses and intimate but careful caresses shared in a time that hadn't come yet and wouldn't arrive for quite a while.

What he hadn't expected at all was to feel _this_, an unexplainable but raw desire that appeared when he just watched the woman. They had eaten together like this quite a few times already and it wasn't the first time that the two of them ended another week with the contents of a well deserved bottle of wine.

Never before however he had been so much aware of the fact that she was a _woman_. And not just _a _woman, but one who was so compatible to the man he had become, who was apparently capable of enchanting him in a way he had always been sure only Lucy could.

Sweeney tried to look away from the beautiful baker, to ignore the desire that roared inside of him as he watched her and tried to forget that he would be in this woman's bed tonight, that she would hold him until the nightmares left him alone at last.

Oblivious to his thoughts and burning gaze, Mrs. Lovett took another sip of wine, fingers caressing the rim of the glass subconsciously when she put it back on the table. Sweeney stared at the tender movement of the small, nimble fingers, breath quickening as he realized that those fingers had stroked his body like that last night, that she would touch him again with such gentleness whenever he needed it.

Those caresses were innocent, even though he knew that they meant something completely different for her. But as his gaze focused once more on her upper body even though he didn't want it to, he wasn't so sure anymore whether he would consider the movements of her hands against his body during the next time that she caressed him during the darkest hours of the night as harmless as he had done until now .

The spoon fell from his suddenly numb fingers and it fell loudly on the floor, near the baker's feet. Automatically he got up to reach for it, never taking his eyes off her.

He kneeled down right next to her, but as he stretched his hand to pick up the spoon, his arm accidentally brushed against the soft fabric of her dress. The realization how close he was to her hit him almost as hard as the sight of her black stockings that his slightly trembling arm had exposed unintentionally.

He looked up, hoping that she wasn't aware of the dangerous thoughts within him, only to be greeted by a pair of big brown eyes that were already focused at him. There was so much love and longing in her eyes that it felt as if he got lost in them.

Taken aback by the emotions in her gaze that he could read so easily now, he lost his balance. Intuitively he grabbed the thing which was closest to him, which happened to be the baker's body. Spoon long forgotten, Sweeney clung to the stocking clad leg that he had admired earlier, horror and delight battling for dominance within him.

Even as he collected himself and sat down more firmly on his knees, relaxing his grasp on her, he remained sitting on the floor next to Mrs. Lovett, unable to let her go even as embarrassment and desire caused his cheeks to color.

As if sensing that this was the chance that she had been waiting for the greater part of her life, she reached for him. Her movements were slow and somewhat uncertain, as if she couldn't belief herself that this was actually happening.

After a long moment however she touched him, fingers carefully caressing his hair. Sweeney closed his eyes. The gesture hardly relieved the tension he felt deep inside of him, but it made clear to him that there was about to happen something that would.

His heart was pounding in his chest as the baker's fingers moved to his face, gently stroking his cheeks and nose. For the first time it fully dawned on him what it must've been like for her to endure this physical torture. He wondered how on earth she had been able to withstand the desire that he couldn't bear for the duration of only meal for as long as she had.

Mr. Todd sat still as she touched him, not entirely sure how he should proceed, and whether he should do anything at all. But as her fingers moved to his lips, his deprived body reacted on its own accord, not waiting for permission any longer.

Unable to think, let alone consider the consequences, the barber reached for the still sitting baker, yanking her face down towards his and crashing his mouth against hers.

There was no time for thought or rationality, and even their uncomfortable position wasn't noticed. He forgot about himself and his past as he kissed Nellie at last, marveling in the feeling that washed over him as he did so. It was something that he couldn't define, couldn't be compared to the plain happiness that he had felt whenever he had kissed Lucy.

The barber felt sparks that hinted at more than mere physical attraction, vaguely reminding him that they were connected by more than just time. But even as the kiss deepened and both of them moaned because of the relief of finally giving in to their desire and the discovery that it wasn't enough yet at all, Sweeney didn't want to stop.

His hands made his way to her waist, pulling her closer to him and touching of much of her as he could. Frustrated by the multiple layers of clothing he found there, one hand moved to her neck, savoring the feeling of her flushed skin beneath his fingertips in a way he had never done before.

Needing more of her and bothered by their awkward positions, but unable to actually consider the urge, he pulled her off the chair she was still sitting on, dragging her with him onto the floor.

Mrs. Lovett hardly seemed to be aware of the rather hard landing and neither was Sweeney. Having her really close to him at last, he pulled her on top of him, tangling his hands in her hair to bring her mouth as close to his own as was physically possible, needing as much of her as he could take.

Maybe it was because they had to make up for so much lost time, or because the baker was just as desperate to cross this boundary at last as he was, or perhaps a combination of both. But it didn't matter what the cause was of the sudden madness, not as long as they finally could give in to their desire.

They both felt that kissing wasn't enough and after a moment of silent agreement, Sweeney rolled the baker onto her back, hands sliding down her body to touch what his eyes had devoured earlier that night. Every kiss made him long for more, every caress begging him to continue, overwhelming his entire being with want.

The barber couldn't think, but even if he would've been able to do so he wouldn't have acted any differently. Intuitively it seemed only normal that this was happening, as if this was the only possible outcome after all that had happened during the past two decades.

Only when he hiked up the baker's skirts and his hands reached beneath them, fingers brushing against her thighs as he intended to remove the last layers of clothing that were between him and the release he was aching for, the realization what was about to happen hit him with the force of a prison guard's club.

His eyes snapped open to reveal the baker's face right beneath his own, her expression of desire and expectation undeniable. The disappointment that radiated off her as soon as she sensed his hesitation was like a physical blow as well, both because depriving her once more seemed like the most cruel thing to do and because he realized what he had just almost done in a moment of frenzy, what he could've ruined if there hadn't been one moment of relative clearness to look only a little beyond his own desire.

"Don't stop," she whispered, obviously not caring now for the consequences of their actions.

Sweeney however sensed that there would come a moment that she _would _care, but by then it would be too late and the things that had occurred between them then couldn't be made undone.

"We can't do this," he said, too much aware of the soft and inviting body right beneath him, that she could be his if only he continued what he had started.

"Why not?"

Her voice was quite steady, but he noticed the despair behind her words, felt how much she wanted him to do this.

"We are on the _floor_," he said, hoping that he could make her see that they shouldn't connect in that final way like both of them were so tempted to do at that very moment.

As he saw the uncomprehending look in the auburn haired woman's eyes, the barber realized that this was even going to be more difficult than he feared.

"I want you too much."

Her eyes widened as it dawned on her what he meant.

"There isn't such a thing," she whispered, hands clinging to his shirt as if she could persuade him somehow that way.

"There _is_," he growled, wishing that she would at least realize how much she was tempting him by simply being so close to him. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

Sweeney knew that it wasn't true. He couldn't be gentle, couldn't be careful, not after all that had happened. But if there was someone who didn't deserve any more pain, who he wanted to be treated with tenderness and slowness, it was the woman who was currently basically begging him to take her no matter what.

He wished that he could tell her what would happen if he released his repressed lust on her, but he knew that just seeing her eyes widen and darken when he'd tell her what he would do with her if he couldn't control himself any longer would be his own undoing.

"Kiss me."

Both of them were surprised by the request; Mrs. Lovett obviously couldn't believe that she had actually had the courage to say this and Mr. Todd because he hadn't expected her to ask for a _kiss_ even as one of his hands was still resting on her thigh.

He opened his mouth to object. The last thing he should do in this state was to make the situation even more intimate, but before he could voice this thought, she moved upwards to brush her lips against his own.

Sweeney was completely still for a moment, his body and mind trying to catch up with this new development.

The kiss was gentle and quite chaste, something he hadn't expected after what just had happened. Mrs. Lovett wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back on top of her.

Finding himself once again in such an intimate position with the baker, there was no other option for him than to press his lips more firmly against hers, even as his earlier determination not to let it happen like this was echoing inside his head.

The kiss differed from the previous ones. To his surprise, Mrs. Lovett didn't allow him to deepen it, even though the barber found himself more than willing to do so.

The baker's fingers began to caress his back with soft touches, and in spite of the circumstances, Sweeney found himself relaxing because of the soothing gestures. His eyes were closed and some of the tension in his body disappeared.

When her hands twined in his hair again, the baker pulled him closer to him than he had ever been before, pressing her lips more firmly against his own. Mr. Todd suppressed once again the urge to deepen the kiss, to touch her like he had done mere minutes ago.

It took a lot of willpower, but he managed to let the baker be in control. The kiss remained slow and gentle, even as its intensity increased. Mrs. Lovett too was trembling with the effort not to give in to her desire, which wasn't making things easier for the barber himself.

He cupped the baker's face with both his hands as she continued to stroke his back in that strange way that calmed and excited him at the same time, slowly getting somewhat used to the unbelievably pleasant sensations that kissing Nellie Lovett caused.

It became gradually easier to focus on nothing but the kiss, to free himself from the incredible awareness of the way their bodies were pressed together.

The feeling of her tongue against his own replaced everything else and before he knew it, there came a moment that there existed nothing in the world except for the kiss that they were sharing.

Tenderness mixed with lust and when they broke apart after an almost breathless minute. Caressing each other with eager but more controlled hands, Sweeney sensed that he would never be more ready than he was now.

"Yes," he simply said, and that single word was all that Mrs. Lovett needed.

He had seen her smile often, especially in the recent past, but the way she was grinning now was new to him. Her entire face seemed to be radiant with joy and it affected him as well. The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he looked at her, her smile widening even more when she saw this.

In any other situation he could've remained laying on the floor for quite some time, just watching her smile and experiencing the curious feelings that this caused within him, but now there was something even better about to happen.

Sweeney stood up, determined to find a more suitable location, taking her hands to pull her swiftly on her feet. They looked at each other as they stood close to one another in the middle of the room, the food on the table forgotten, for a moment too lost in each other's gaze to move.

Mrs. Lovett was the first to recover. She took his right hand in her own, pulling him out of the parlor, eyes focused on the door leading to her bedroom. Without another second of doubt, even though he knew very well what was going to happen at last, Sweeney followed her.


	30. Closure 2

Closure

"You _what?_"

Sweeney's eyes snapped open as Nellie's voice broke the sudden silence that had followed after...

The barber blinked, trying to force his brain to retreat from the heavenly places where it had just wandered. But the room he and Nellie were in was dark and there was nothing that reminded him of anything that he might have said or done that surprised the baker so much.

There was nothing indeed, nothing but Nellie. Nothing but the softness and warmth of her skin, the feeling of her spine beneath his eager fingertips, the wild curls that tickled his face and made it seem as if he could almost taste her scent. There was nothing but the beads of sweat on her body and her heart that was still beating frantically beneath his head that was resting on her chest. Nothing but the quietness, comfort and pleasure they shared so frequently now and had brought some light and hope back into his life.

"It's alright," she said gently, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I understand that you didn't... mean to say that."

In spite of her words, the slight pain that his lack of reaction caused her was obvious to him now, even though he wouldn't have noticed until a few weeks ago. He had said something while he had caressed her as their bodies slowly recovered from just having found release together once more. Something that had surprised her so much that it had interrupted the lazy minutes of satisfaction that usually made her feel just as deliciously lost as him.

"It's really alright," she whispered, "don't worry about it."

She brushed her lips against his, as if she was hoping to made him forget about what just had happened that way. Or perhaps _she_ wanted to forget, because she couldn't believe whatever he had apparently said.

Sweeney however wanted to remember the words that his mouth had whispered in her ear, somehow sensing that whatever it was that he had said had been of great importance.

As he deepened the kiss, his being was again overwhelmed by the sensations that kissing Nellie Lovett caused and he gladly surrendered to them once more. He shivered as she made soft noises of contentment when he kissed her slowly and ran his hand down her back, caressing the curve of her waist.

The kiss they had just shared had made him think of a place far away from London, somewhere by the sea perhaps, in a small but comfortable home where he wanted to live with her, where he would wake up next to her for the rest of his life. And as he kissed her again, the images became clearer in his mind, until they were so real that they could almost touch them.

He intuitively knew that they were parts of a life he could have if he stayed with her. And for the first time he fully realized that he _wanted_ that life, wanted it with his entire being – and that he wanted _her_, everything of her that she had offered him so generously and would continue to offer him for many years to come.

The physical joy of feeling her body against his own and the visions of an unexpectedly bright future, pulled him once again in a world of hope and delight.

As he was lost in another kiss, the feelings that had broken to the surface earlier rose again, but this time he was actually aware of them.

He was so much at ease in Nellie's presence these days that he often found himself saying things without fully thinking about them. The words he said that way were at least just as true as they otherwise would've been, but it somehow shocked him how easy it was to tell her things without being careful. A very short while ago he had even been off guard to such an extent that he had whispered of feelings he experienced before he himself was actually fully aware of them.

The emotions he felt should shock him, for he had always been entirely sure that he would only feel such things for Lucy, no matter what would happen. But Lucy was gone, having disappeared a long time ago, and no matter how unlikely it seemed, there was someone else now who made him feel like his late wife once had done.

He remembered now what he had said to Nellie, and why she had been so surprised and shocked by it – she had expected the declaration even less than he had.

Sweeney ended the kiss gently and moved somewhat away from her, leaning on his forearms so he could look at her face, that was illuminated now by the first rays of sunlight of the spring's day.

He took a deep breath, wondering for a moment whether he should really repeat what he had just said almost accidentally. But as he stared in her eyes, that were just as dark and hopeful as his, he knew that acknowledging what he had said earlier in a moment of tenderness wasn't only what he truly wanted, but also the only sensible thing to do, the only way to ensure a life for both of them that would be so much better than anything they had known for one and a half decade.

Caressing her cheek with his thumb, he was this time fully aware of what his lips whispered as he repeated what he had subconsciously said a few minutes ago.

"I love you."

The End

* * *

_Wow, I kinda can't believe I completed this story within a year! But here it is, the final chapter of this fic. It's short but (I hope) sweet._

_My next story, also a Sweenett romance (but this time a smutty one!), will be called **Choice**. I think I'll post the first chapter next week. I also want to continue my half-completed Sweenett fic **Miracles **at last._

_But for now: Happy New Year!_


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